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The Red Branch Crests 



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DEIRDRE 
MEVE . 
CUCHULAIN 



By CHARLES LEONARD MOORE 



Printed for the Author 
Philadelphia, 1904 






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LiBsTrf .-/ oongI^ss 


Two Cnoies S^r-iiivpir: 


JUL 5 1904 


Coo.yrljrht e.r.trv 

CLaS<: /S- XXc. No. 

^1 t n 
COPY B 



Copyrighted, A. D. 1904 

By Charles Leonard Moore 

All Rights Reserved 



CH-l^i^'i^ 



Deirdre 



PERSONiE 



Deirdre (Daredra). 
Lavarcam. 
Naoise (Neesha). 
AInle. 
Ardan. 

Conor mac Nessa. 
Conall Cearnach. 
Cuchulain. 
Fergus mac Roigh. 
Cathba. 
Fellm. 
Fiercetne. 
Neide. 
Faradach. 
Knights of the Red Branch. Lords of the King 
of Alba. Women. Attendants. 



DEIRDRE 



SCENE 1. 
Felim's house in Emania. A hall with 
tables on either side, and at the rear a wide 
door closed hy curtains. King Conor mac Nessa 
and his nohles of the Red Branch, with their 
druids, ollavs, and musicians, are seated at 
feast. Cathba, head Druid of Erin, sits apart 
in the background turning over his magic book. 
Shields are hung around the walls. Torches 
burn in the sconces. 

CONOR: Born the hour is, blest and best, 

For the happy, happiest; 

King and Knights and poets met 

Blaze one jewelled carcanet; 

Laughs my heart and leaps in joy. 

Fate submits to my employ; 

War spoils won, my warfare ends; 

Feast I now as friend with friends. 

Who shall voice the vivid word, 

New and nude and never heard, 

That shall touch our top of bliss? 

Cathba, Druid, thine it is. 
CATHBA: Not to-night, O Conor, I 

Strike the harp of ecstasy. 

As I turn these magic sheaves 

Dying tones my ear receives, 

Failing gusts and falling leaves; 

Greatness rushing to its doom. 

Beauty rifled for its bloom. 

War's red swath and death's black tomb, 

Such the pictures, King, that rise 

From this book before my eyes. 

5 



CONOR: Jarring discord, funeral hue, 

IVIake and mark our mirth more true. 

Felim, thou art host and guest; 

Sing the joy that thrills each breast. 

FELIM: Peace, and peace with all its sheaves 
From the spear of war receives 
Wreaths as rich as autumn eves — 
Garden of Erin Ulster stands, 
Fenced about by Red Branch bands; 
On its frontiers glitter bright 
Arms of many a novice knight; 
And within and all around 
Human flowers adorn the ground: 
Manhood's splendor, woman's grace 
Bloom best in our ruddy race. 
Emerald green our deep grassed slopes 
Stoop where blue ridged ocean opes 
Roofed by blue or golden copes: 
Thick set orchards gleam and shine; 
Like white mantling clouds, the kine: 
Boars' tusks in the forest gleam; 
Leaps the salmon in the stream; 
And the red deer and the dun 
On the woodlands crouch or run. 
Abundance of the earth and sea 
Ministers to make mortals free. 
Midst of all Emania lifts — 
As a sunset piles its drifts — 
Walls of many colored dyes. 
Look! The Red Branch House doth rise 
Many windowed, mighty doored. 
Where the spoils of war are stored, 
Wine and viands, forage, grain. 
And in it live the hostage train. 
Look! the Speckled House uprears. 
Where the Red Branch bows and spears. 
Dinted shields and chariots rest 
To renew their battle zest; 



Goblets crystal, silver, gold; 
Chains and breastplates manifold; 
Helmets plumed with eagle feather — 
They are heaped or hung together. 
Look! the Royal Branch abode 
Opes its doors to every road: 
Heart of all the realm, it sends 
Its firelight to earth's farthest ends; 
For the King, for Conor, there 
Blue-eyed, ruddy, debonair, 
Waits to v\/elcome all who come 
As unto a promised home. 

CONOR: Wide the praised ear gapes. But fit 
Ye my laud should intermit 
Where unsung such heroes sit. 
Who Cuchulain splendor chants? 
Cathba, thou — 

CATHBA: The mood still wants. 

Dread the day when daring charms 
Wedded he his virgin arms. 

CONOR: Boding raven, hence thy cry! 
Charm.s and omens we defy. 

FERGUS: From the bard to me belonging 

Let the wings of words come thronging, 
Carrying Cuchulain's fame. 
Neide, sing the boy of flame! 

NEIDE: Welcome Is the wonder born — 

Welcome to words, to strings, to horn — 

The boding book, the mystic page. 

Stirs as it tells his parentage. 

What time the pallid moon did blanch 

The mansion of the Royal Branch 

Conor's sister wandered forth. 

Plighted by some awful troth. 

Strange warriors strode the moonlight wan 

The Tuatha de Danaan. 

Back she came, and drooping lay 

On her bed for many a day, 

7 



Till from her womb Cuchulain came 
From his birth a thing of flame; 
Thro' his youth the legend tells 
Of swift succeeding miracles. 
Alba sought he Scathach's home 
To learn the arts to overcome; 
But ere his pupilage was begun 
The prize from ail her train he won. 
O'er the Bridge of Cliffs he darts 
Kept and swept by wizard arts; 
Scathach's daughter saw his face 
And claimed him for her bed's embrace; 
A goddess loved him — downward bore 
Him below the sea's dark floor, 
To the glistening understrand, 
To the last and loveliest land; 
Place of lordly hero games; 
Place of praise-awarding dames, 
Place of pleasure without sin. 
There, what other warriors win 
Only thro' extremest ways. 
Only at their end of days, 
Was his boyhood's heritage. 
Shall I tell the battle rage, 
Forays, single fights and raids. 
Embassies and ambuscades? 
Needless now the strings to tire! 
Hail, Cuchulain, form of fire, 
Ulster's champion, earth's desire. 
CUCHULAIN: Bard, Feircetne, Fergus sing 
Giant son of Ulster's King! 

FEIRCETNE: Giant of gold shadowed brow, 
Royal once and loyal now — 

As Feircetne begins a commotion is heard 
without. The doors at the side of the hall are 
-flung oven and Lavarcam enters, attended by 
other ladies, and bearing in her arms a new- 
born infant. The King and nobles stand up in 
confusion. 

8 



LAVARCAM: Greeting to Ulster's King and Knights! 
FELIIVI: What bearest thou? 
LAVARCAM: Thy daughter! 
CONOR: Lights! 

Let us see this dawn that springs 

Over our flushed revellings. 
FELIM: Adia! 
LAVARCAM: Swift life's swelling tide 

Floated this infant from her side; 

Now she slumbers, slumbers deep. 
CONOR: Fortune has thee in his keep, 

Felim, and upon us all 

Opal hues of splendor fail. 

How! with conquest crowned, at feast 

Cups a-circle, words released. 

Soaring high with warriors' praise, 

At very brightest of life's blaze. 

Comes this cuddling, baby thing, 

Emblem of Fortune's favoring. 

Melancholy Druid, thou, 

Cathba, what of omens now? 

CATHBA: More and more, and yet more drear 

Wail the dsath winds in my ear. 

I am firm as at the first; 

Thy best seems to me the worst; 

All the river of thy woe 

From this infant fount shall flow. 
CONOR: Croaking vulture, feel my ire — 

He starts to strike CatMa, 'but the nobles 

interfere. 
CONALL: Halt, O King! 

FERGUS: Retire, retire, 

Conor! 
CUCHULAIN: Sacred is the yevy. 

Sacred the inspired few. 

Masters of law, of thought, of word. 

Who the mysterious Ones have heard, 



Who the mysterious sights have seen, 
Who usher all that will be in. 
Tho' their prophecies be black, 
Tho' their venomed words attack, 
The vital fluid of man's frame; 
Round them floats a wall of flame. 
Awe and Fear their shields afford 
Guarding them 'gainst blow or sword. 
CONOR: Well I am a swordless man, 
Or this Druid who bodes ban 
Should this moment be made twain 
Soul and body, blood and brain! 
But enough! My pulse is still; 
Live the fool for further ill; 
But I charge and I command 
That he make us understand, 
With persuasion double proof. 
Not by hints that hang aloof. 
Whispers from his magic book, 
Shrug and whine and gruesome look, 
But by signs borne in the air. 
Portents we can see and share, 
How this infant maiden's fate 
Touches us. interrogate 
All the known oracles of fate 
And tell us, Druid, how for us 
This baby's life is ominous. 

CONALL: That's but fair. He must make good 
His boding words, half understood. 

CATHBA: Ask me not, nobles, or O king. 
The explication of this thing. 
That which is given to words is willed; 
That which is spoke is half fulfilled; 
Leave Fate unfettered, leave it free. 
Or but an ominous cloud in me. 

CONOR: Hear ye. Knights! IVIy patience fails. 
Druid, list! Ere morning pales 
All the torched lights above 
That weave man's future as they move, 
10 



Put forth the powers of thy art 
And the doom to us impart; 
Else, maugre all thy mastership, 
My grooms thy very self shall whip, 
Or to a tree thy body nail 
And let the vultures find the tale. 

CATHBA: So be it! Now I give the law. 
Back to obedience and old awe: 
Down in your seats and let each hand 
Darken a dream intruding brand! 

The King and Knights resume their seats 
and extinguish the torches, leaving the room 
in darkness save for a smouldering brazier in 
the middle of the hall. Cathha goes to the rear 
and throws open the curtains, disclosing a night 
brilliant loith an Aurora Borealis. He goes out 
on the platform beyond, and his voice floats in 
at intervals. 

The moon is hunted from the sky; 
The tangled stars show fitfully; 
That prosperous and prescient race 
Rides not in its pomp of place; 
But to the very zenith rears 
A pallid mass of charging spears, 
An armature of ghostly fire. 
Hurled thro' the heavens in awful ire; 
And curtains close their forms from sight 
Who wield those weapons of the night; 
Curtains changing, varying, glowing. 
With thousand colors interflowing: 
Hark, a hissing, crackling noise! 
The veil is rent in its middle poise; 
The abyssmal black of night is there. 
And a face looks from that lair, 
White beyond all that flaring light. 
With hair and crowning circlet white, 
With eyes that coldly open wide, 
With curved lips of haughty pride. 

11 



The curtains roll and close again; 
Shoots up in air the rising rain. 
Now fade the Northern Lights and yield 
The vivid stars their velvet field. 

A pause. 
Earth born portent now I see. 
Look, yon blossoming hawthorn tree, 
May's earliest betrothed bride. 
Decked in green and silver pride, 
Alters. Fiery, sinuous lines 
Deck it v/ith unknown designs. 
To a torch the white thing turns, 
Like a beifire bright it burns 
Red upon the spectral air. 
Blood red pulsing, throbbing there, 
Self-illumined 'mid night's pall: 
And its leaves of crimson fall 
On the lit sward underneath. 
Like petals from a rose's wreath: 
So it glows and wastes away 
In its beautiful decay: 
Autumn's one emblazoning. 
Pushed into the ranks of spring. 

A pause. 
Hark! On the air a rush of wings. 
All the perched and nested things 
Wake, and hither hurl in flight: 
A snow-white dove flies down the night, 
And wheels and dives, pursued and chased 
Up, down, thro' all the middle waste. 
By hawks from every quarter round. 
'Tis struck! It flutters to the ground. 
Forgot! For all its equipage 
Clashes in air in battle rage. 
Wings, talons, beaks, wage floating war, 
A whirling mass that wheels afar. 
Leaving behind a falling track, 
A meteor pathway traced in black. 

Cathba leaves the platform and re-enters the 
hall. 

12 



I must say the thing decreed! 

Portents and omens are agreed. 

Blaze torches, kingly homage show, 

Welcome the embassy of woe! 

The nobles croivd around the brazier and 
relight the torches. Then they group together 
in the centre of the hall. Cathba strides for- 
ward and takes the child from Lavarcam's 
arms. 

Name from me this babe must have. 
Call her Deirdre to her grave. 
CONOR: Deirdre — fear— what name is this? 

CATHBA: She it is shall break your bliss," 

She shall shake your Red Branch nest; 

Shatter shield and scatter crest: 

Thro' her turmoil, treason comes; 

Thro' her the battle bursts and foams; 

Thro' her shall brothers be arrayed 

Bleeding each from friendly blade; 

Thro' her Ulster's clans shall meet 

Crushing ruin, dire defeat: 

Emania's mansions thro' her shall 

Blaze and leap and crash and fall. 
CONALL: Never! What one's infant life 

Be preserved to stir such strife; 

Nurse and nurture must we need 

Poisons plant and ruins seed? 

Here's the best that earth has known 

Man to fullest stature grown; 

War and love and song are made 

More burnished by each other's aid; 

Must this end in Ulster's rout, 

And Emania blotted out? 

Nobles, in your looks 1 read 

Answer to such fate decreed! 

She must die. 

FERGUS: Must die! 
CUCHULAIN: Must die! 

13 



LAVARCAM: Help, O help! I cannot fly! 

Dark looks lower around me here; 

Dark words fill my soul with fear. 

Fellm, thou art father, thou 

No dread murder will allow! 

Thou art master In this house, 

Husband of a loving spouse, 

Wilt let the hearth of thy home place 

Take stains the years will not erase? 
FELIM: Either way the future's black, 

I can do naught to hold it back. 

LAVARCAM: Conor, King — by child blood shed 
Shall thy shield be tarnished? 
Ulster's sons the future fear: 
Death's far whistle In their ear, 
Chills their veins and craven makes 
War dyed lords whom blood not slakes: 
Thou, the gods' great officer, 
May not with such passions stir. 
Justice, Mercy, Honor, can 
Trust in thee who art a man. 
See, I kneel to thee and lift 
Up this all unconscious gift. 
The tiny creature to the hand 
That can anew its life command: — 
No crime unnatural saves the land. 

FERGUS: Dread the deed, but dire the need; 

Woman's cries thou must not heed. 
CONALL: Tho' alone within this room, 

I would halt the day of gloom, 

Ulster's and Emania's doom. 
CUCHULAIN: Conor, think! Not only we. 

This court, magnificent and free. 

But all the hope of our fair land 

Dies, if she die not. Here I stand. 

He ranges himself with Fergus and Conall. 
CONOR: Silence all! My sobered thought 
Leaves the fight 'gainst Fate unfought: 

14 



Be the omens unerased; 

Be the priest that brought them praised; 

Nothing man can do prevents 

The purpose of the elements. 

It is just and it is fit: 

To soothsaying I submit: 

But i not consent to do 

Baseness Fate were baffled thro'. 

What! Shall men and warriors slay 

This frail inch of soul-fired clay, 

Stop this scarcely half drawn breath, 

Usher helplessness to death? 

Not for hero fame that might 

Fill the earth as stars the night! 

If we cannot Fate avoid; 

If we rush down to the void; 

Well! And let each Knight and brother 

Deal out death to one another, 

Deal it to himself at last, 

But not to this stranger, cast 

Shipwrecked on our mortal strand. 

At the mercy of our hand. 

By the moon and by the sun 

This I swear! Debate is done. 

While I live this child shall live: 

And, O men of Erin, mark, 

Should one soul among you dark 

Muffle out its life's dim spark 

He shall die if I survive. 

CUCHULAIN: Right! Thy words all golden ring. 

Thou hast spoken like a King. 
CONALL: I submit. Thy judgment stands, 

Maugre life and hope and lands. 

OMNES: Hail, O King! Be crowned anew! 
What thou biddest us, we will do. 

CONOR: Take the child, Lavarcam, take 
And rear her gently for my sake. 
Under my guard this bud shall grow 
Until its blossoming time shall show. 

15 



Then, if I, too, remain on earth, 

With her will I make marriage mirth. 

IVly one consort and my bride 

Shall be the Fear I have defied. 

Danger wooed to our embrace 

Oft turns to us a different face. 

I will build a tower for her 

Blind to men that round it stir; 

Frowning inexpugnable 

On a world forgotten well; 

But within a nest of ease, 

Warmth and splendor, softness, ease; 

Opening all its windowed eyes 

On a gardened paradise. 

That shall fenced be so high 

The birds shall hardly overfly: 

Here, mid waters, woods and flowers, 

'Mid orchard slopes and vine dressed bowers, 

Shall she grow to maidenhood. 

Knowing naught but what is good; 

Sheltered from our human storm. 

Seeing not a human form 

Save her nurse and tutor old, 

And her destined husband's mould. 

This, Lavarcam, take in charge 

Till I can plan it more at large. 

LAVARCAM: Lordly King, thy will shall be 
As a chart of Fate to me. 
May she grow to rose and white 
And pay you with deserved delight. 

CONOR: Stay! The maiden I betroth 
With my ring as with my oath. 

LAVARCAM: A ribbon round her neck shall keep 
The ring thro' all her childhood's sleep, 
Till on her finger it can gleam 
And you shall wake her from her dream. 

CUCHULAIN: Poets, strike your harps, and sound 
Trumpets while the cups go round! 

16 



Nobles, stand about in ring, 
Pledge the consort of the King! 
OMNES: To the King and to his bride 
Honor, joy, be multiplied. 



SCENE 2. 

Room in Deirdre's tower. On one side a blank 

wall — the rear windows opening on a garden 

where snow is falling. Conor and Lavarcam. 
CONOR: Where is Deirdre? 
LAVARCAM: Deirdre still! 

That name must your fancy fill. 

Have you turned into a bird 

Taught to croak a single word? 

Day by day you asking come, 

As if the girl abroad could roam. 
CONOR: Pish! a moment now and then 

I give to think of her, as men 

Must do who 'neath such burdens move — 

As mine are. 
LAVARCAM: And you're not in love? 
CONOR: Perhaps, a little, more or less. 
LAVARCAM: O well dissembled eagerness! 

So oft you come that one well might 

Think the more, most. And does she seem 

Beautiful to you? 
CONOR: Beauty's god 

Has put in her his period. 

All, all of beauty is complete 

Betwixt her stately brow and feet. 

17 



She is a star descended. Stuff, 
You make me idiot enougli! 
LAVARCAM: is she well tutored? 

CONOR: She has learned 

Witchcraft at least. The most discerned 

Of mortals she can dazzle — and 

IVIake him forget to understand 

Anything. Pshaw! 
LAVARCAM: Thou poor forlorn, 

With thy ill-counterfeited scorn! 

So she Is fit to be your wife? 

CONOR: He who parts us parts with life. 
I tell you, woman, she's more dear 
Than is my sword hand. She's more near 
Than is this beating in my side. 
I praise the gods Time's rolling tide 
Tosses her soon into my arms. 

LAVARCAM: Ah! Not yet matured her charms. 
Wait a little. She's too young 
To know the honor that is flung 
Upon her. And, in truth, of late 
Listless is her look and gait. 
Fitfully preoccupied 
She moves about from side to side, 
Now breaking out in girlish folly 
But oftener sunk in melancholy. 

CONOR: Youth's dream of joy is to be sad. 
Bride dresses, jewels, journeys had 
Will make another thing of her. 
But come! The camp is all astir. 
Before the night I must oe far, 
Where on the border blazes war. 
Call Deirdre! 

LAVARCAM: She herself has come! 
Enter Deirdre. 

CONOR: My dear delight. 

DEIRDRE: Unto our home. 
Welcome, sir! 

IS 



She stoops to kiss his hand. 

CONOR: 

Stopping her. 
Ah, but not that way! 
Child no more, you bow to me. 
Maiden, I must bend to thee; 
On your hand a kiss 1 press 
Of homage and submissiveness. 

DEIRDRE: Oh, no, you must not. Ah, I mean 
Such honor Is but for a queen. 

CONOR: Queen you shall be — Conor's wife! 
With the rumor of you rife, 
Ulster waits, Emania waits, 
Dreaming in its peopled gates, 
Like a blue and glittering brand 
Bared amid a warrior band. 
Like a banner that's flung out 
To an universal shout. 
Shall your beauty dawn and flood 
Irish hearts with ardent blood. 

DEIRDRE: All you speak is new and strange. 
I but know my daily change, 
Tower to garden and the few 
Who trouble with me. Great sir, you. 
And this lady, ever good, 
Cailcin, my tutor, and the brood 
Of the hounds with whom I play. 
Is it possible in yonder day 
There are many others. Are there, there. 
Girls like myself, tho' far more fair. 
And glittering knights with flaming looks. 
Such as are pictured in my books? 

CONOR: From your sleep you shall awake 
And a world shall on you break. 
Just created. But how's this? 
The ring, Lavarcam, sure I miss, 
That betrothed us! 

LAVARCAM: Deirdre, where 

Is the ring you're wont to wear? 

19 



DEIRDRE: Oh, I know not. Forgive me, I 

Have mislaid it. Laid it by — 

Lost it I have not. 
CONOR: No, I trust 

That bright quintescence of the dust 

Is a sacred thing. But now 

I must take leave of you. I go 

To fight, but, v^ith so poor a foe, 

I shall be back ere you can make 

A dozen wishes. Then shall wake 

Music, all song's wings be released. 

Bonfires, rich revel, dancing, feast, 

For I shall come to claim my bride. 
DEIRDRE: Do all the knights you speak of ride 

Away with you? 
CONOR: Not at all. Some stay 

To guard Emania. Deirdre, nay — 

Once more I stoop to press my lips 

Upon your slender finger tips. 
DEIRDRE: Good-bye, sir. For your good I'll pray. 
Lavarcam shows Conor out. Deirdre alone. 
DEIRDRE: Why am I so dull to-day? 

The kind King must deem me rude, 

A being of all ingratitude! 

But the house seems hung in gloom; 

Everything within this room 

Unfamiliar is. I'll try 

If I can make some melody. 
Moves over to her harp and strikes a single 

chord, which snaps. 

Out, alas! A broken string. 

Ominous and hateful thing. 

I'll be busy and forget 

Inward fever, folly, fret. 
Moves over to her spinning wheel, 'but at the 

first turn the thread breaks. 

Broken, too. O my poor life, 

Ruin goes with thee and strife. 

20 



Moves over to the loindoio. 

Snow on castle wall and roof, 

Snow wreaths on the trees aloof; 

Oh, I feel, I feel it here 

Where the blood my heart should cheer. 

See yon snow filled robin's nest, 

It is emptied in my breast. 

Yonder fount, and yonder stream 

Are like me in icy dream. 

Sure my look is fatal. See 

Cailcin comes, and piteously 

By his side a calf does bleat; 

And it dies that I shall eat! 

Ha, the red blood streaks the snow, 

And a raven, sloping low, 

Sits to sup it; but his knife 

Cailcin throws and ends its life. 

And it falls upon the snow, 

Plumaged darkness, wreath of woe. 

Lavarcam enters and glides up behind 
Deirdre. 

Ruddy fire and raven black, 
Whiteness from the airy rack, 
These I know and these I lack! 

She sinks back half swooiiing into Lavar- 
cam's arms. 

LAVARCAM: What is't, Deirdre? What has wrought 

So your senses overfraught? 

Pale and cold, with closed eyes! 

What shock fells thee? What surprise? 

So, the blood comes rushing back 

Into each abandoned track! 

Wake, my dove, in this warm cage, 

In my bosom's harborage. 
DEIRDRE: Lady, you had best, I think, 

Let me in death's slumber sink. 
LAVARCAM: Girl, what hurts you? 
DEIRDRE: My desire! 

21 



LAVARCAM: What is that? 

DEIRDRE: Look! What seest thou? 

LAVARCAM: I see Cailcin stooping low 
O'er a calf that shall be dressed 
For our evening repast. 

DEIRDRE: And dost thou see nothing more? 

LAVARCAM: A bird lies there on the snow floor. 

DEIRDRE: That is my desire! 

LAVARCAM: How so? 

DEIRDRE: Whiteness of the drifted snow, 
Plumes that can outgloom the night, 
Crimson blood that flushes bright! 

LAVARCAM: Would all your wishes were as these. 
As easily made realities. 
Wait a moment and I'll bring 
Your desire here — everything. 

Exit Lavarcam. 

DEIRDRE: Shall I have my heart's desire? 
Say ye gliding ghosts of fire. 
Trembling thro' the twilight trees! 
Say ye mound divinities 
Who dance at midnight in a ring. 
At the daylight entering 
Into earth. Say ye who take 
Dead heroes down the ocean lake 
To their elysium at last. 
Answer me! But no! I cast 
Modesty and fear aside; 
My heart shall be satisfied: 
Tense my limbs that erst did yield, 
Tense as spears in battle field; 
Fires rush thro' me and I feel 
Force that needs make no appeal 
To such frail and futile powers; 
Charge I have upon the hours; 
They must obey me, aid me — win 
What I wish. Begin! begin! 

22 



Re-enter Lavarcam with a platter heaped with 

snow, a cup of Mood and a handful of raven 

plumes. 
LAVARCAM: Here's the medicine for your gloom, 

Snow and blood and raven plume. 
DEIRDRE: Place them on the table there. 
LAVARCAM: Why, oh Deirdre, do you stare 

Wildly? These things are not food, 

Yet you dip a plume in blood, 

Taste it, and the enow you eat. 

Child, be calm. Be soothed, my sweet. 
DEIRDRE: Leave me! 
LAVARCAM: Strangely works your face! 
DEIRDRE: I would be alone a space! 
LAVARCAM: Well, our supper I must dress; 

Suit you then with loneliness. 
Exit Lavarcam. Deirdre brings a chair and 

sits down before the things on the table. 
DEIRDRE: Sculptor's craft and painter's skill 

Now my unschooled fingers fill! 
She empties the snow out on the table and 

begins to model from it the head of a man. 

First the shoulders, sinewy, broad, 

Equal to a monarch's load; 

Then the column of the neck 

Round and firm without a fleck. 

All its whiteness held erect, 

And with dented sinews decked; 

Now the head that sits so well 

On this pillared pedestal; 

All its weight so lightly borne, 

Vital, lifted like a dawn; 

Now the broad and level brows, 

Architraves of this rich house; 

Now the nose, firm moulded, straight; 

The man's very mark of Fate; 

Now the rich lips underneath, 

Parted for a glint of teeth; 



Rounded cheek and rounded chin, 

And the throat's quick curving in; 

So! The sculptor'3 tale is told. 

My feathers now, to imitate 

All the hair's rich crowning weight; 

Close, dense curls that half unring 

Where the helmet lets them spring, 

On the temples clustering: 

Black the eyebrows — but the eyes 

Blended of no earthy dyes. 

Dreamy flames that sink and rise: 

Now my color. Crimson glows 

The cheeks beneath the temple's snows; 

Faintest tinge on ears I shed; 

But with thrice redoubled red 

Paint the lips — love's visible 

Throne — that with the heart does swell. 

So! The image finished stands 

Forgery of skilless hands. 

Counterfeit of mine own King, 

Idol for my worshiping: 

Homage on my knees I bring. 

Re-enter Lavarcam. 

LAVARCAM: What is this? 

DEIRDRE: A thing soon made; 

Soon to melt and soon to fade! 

LAVARCAM: Marvel you should know such trade! 
Marvel more to make appear. 
Recognizable and clear, 
The image of a famous knight, 
One of Ulster's foremost flight 
Of hawk heroes! Since seven years 
All your youthful maiden peers 
Have been kept from you. You know 
None but Conor who can show 
Manhood's vigor, manhood's glow. 
But other than this flaming face! 
Where's the model that you trace — 
24 



Cailcin? Is this face the seer's? 

Ah, the white frost of his years 

Not with sucn a front does gleam! 

Miracle the work I deem. 
DEIRDRE: Mock me not. It was a dream! 
LAVARCAM: When didst dream it? 
DEIRDRE: Yesternight 

Came a vision, came a light; 

First a cloud and then a form 

Godlike, glowing, goiden, v/arm; 

Lightning thrilled me— shook me — storm. 

I woke. It fled. And fever left 

All my power of strength bereft. 

But what gleamed thro' slumber's gates 

This poor vision imitates. 
LAVARCAM: This is, then, your heart's desire? 
DEIRDRE: Nurse, whom I could never tire, 

Mother — more than mother to me — 

Help me now, or else undo me! 

This is he my heart does crave, 

This is he my arms must have, 

My one fate and only love; 

Make this firm fixed fortress move; 

Make the fenced walls fall down; 

Rise the waters till they drown 

Turret tops, that I may see 

Pathway 'twixt my love and me; 

Turn me to a bird that can 

Leap these walls that circling span; 

Make me mole to tunnel deep 

The foundations of this keep: 

Outward, onward, headlong hence 

Drives me my soul's vehemence. 
Naoise, wheresoe'er you roam. 
Hear me! Hear me! Lo, I come! 
LAVARCAM: Naoise! Right the man she names! 
Which of all Emania's dames 
Who have helped thy tutoring 
Told thee this? They were to ring 

25 



Conor's name and Conor's fame 
Only, ever. The days came 
As Conor's court and retinue. 
A girl's brain is built askew: 
Still an untaken citadel 
By the good that there should dwell, 
But admitting without seige 
Mischief for its sovran liege. 

DEIRDRE: My love's name I heard from him. 

LAVARCAM: In thy dream? 

DEIRDRE: No, in the dim 

Distant days when yet I played 

As a tiny little maid 

With other children. Once we sat 

Watching games the boys v;ere at, 

When one of them — best of all — 

Wrote his name upon a ball 

And threw it to me. When the prize 

I gave back to him, his eyes 

O'er-caressed me and his hand 

Closed on mine as with command. 

LAVARCAM: And this you remember yet? 

DEIRDRE: In my heart the scene is set, 
The one mark of moment there; 
Death shall find it painted fair. 

LAVARCAM: Child, forget it. You are not 
Free to parcel and allot 
Any thought or part of you 
And choose as other maidens do — 
You are sacred, set aside, 
A destined and determined bride. 
Honor, gratitude and pride 
Must bring you, flawless, to the King, 
Who saved you when a baby thing. 
Else — and it is more than all — 
Ruin must on Ulster fall. 
Usnach's sons, a threefold star, 
Naolse, Ainle, Ardan, are 

26 



Conor's greatest — firm they stand, 

Buttresses of Ulster's land. 

Should you draw them from the King 

War and woe will us enring. 

Quench, oh, quench your blood of youth. 

Blot your dream out. Let your mouth 

Utter not the name 1 heard. 

Wake content and sleep unstirred. 
DEIRDRE: So you leave me! 
LAVARCAM: So I must! 
DEIRDRE: Faith be banished, banished trust. 

Myself on myself must lean! 
As Lavarcam is leaving the room she hrushes 

against a green mantle hung against the })lank 

wall, with a shield hung under it. They fall 

and disclose a hole made in the woodwork of 

a l)locked-up windoio thro" ivhich the daylight 

streams. 
LAVARCAM: Ha! I have dislodged the screen 

From the portals of your dream. 

Thou hast studied here your theme! 

Thou hast seen the champion's field. 

Seen the Knights their weapons wield. 

Seen the hero in the flesh — 

Naoise. Oh, the fatal mesh! 
DEIRDRE: Gentle nurse, the deed is done; 

Love has come and seen and won. 

Faultless thou — be faithful now 

To thy child. This is my vow: 

Thou must help me, bring me here 

My predestined hero dear, 

Hero of the crimson cheeks, 

Or my heart with sorrow breaks; 

I will eat not. I will be 

Prisoner of thy cruelty. 
LAVARCAM: In a fatal net we're ta'en, 

I cannot my grief contain. 

Thy desire — the King's commands — 

I can cnly wring my hands! 

27 



DEIRDRE: Dearest iady, you'll not ser.d 
Thy child to such untimely end; 
Bid death's sombre portals ope 
On the heralds of my hope. 
Say — even say — my flesh is weak, 
Say I linger in heartbreak; 
Say my body — home of bliss — 
To the King surrendered is; 
At his touch my flesh rebels, 
The winged thing in me he quells; 
Like to the uncoffined dead 
On his throne and in his bed 
He shall find me. He shall have 
At the best a sullen slave. 
Let him look elsewhere to wive; 
Many maidens are alive, 
Many dames Emania boasts. 
More equal to the lord of hosts. 
Mother, do me not this wrong 
Now thou seest that I belong 
To another. 

LAVARCAM: Why, the youth 
Knows you not. 

DEIRDRE: Oh, fearful truth. 

Dost thou think I cannot move 
Equal passion, answering love? 
Dress me, deck me in my best, 
Jewels hang on arm and breast. 
Bring him to me. Let him see! 
Nature can no traitor be 
Dividing fire unequally. 

LAVARCAM: Hard thy fate is, I admit, 
Cruel. Conor scarce is fit 
In his sobered years to mate 
With thy girlhood passionate. 
But to help you — how can I? 
Everywhere does Cailcin's eye 
Watch within this fortress keep; 
And without the man-hounds sleep, 
28 



Ready with their mighty bruit 
If there falls a foreign foot. 

DEIRDRE: Ha! the hounds. 

LAVARCAM: Aye, they will rend 

Naoise limb from limb and blend 
The white snow with virgin blood. 

DEIRDRE: Dreadful! 

LAVARCAM: Be resigned! Be good! 

DEIRDRE: Gentle nurse and mother sweet 
Bring me three pieces of the meat 
Cailcin has ready. Bring this here; — 
The hounds shall give us naught to fear. 
I will go feed them. They will be 
Gentle to-night. To-night, to me, 
In the garden, Naoise bring: 
! will v^arrant everything. 

LAVARCAM: Snow is darkening in the air, 
A wild night comes. Wild, I fear. 
The work that it \y\\\ see begun. 

Exit Lavarcam. 
DEIRDRE: Horrible! Ha, I see his wounds 
From red battle with the hounds! 
His white limbs gashed by their teeth. 
I see his body from underneath 
Their great m.asses writhe and roll; 
I see their lapping tongues take toll 
Of the streaked and reddened snow! 
Never! I will not have it so. 
Cailcin, thy pupil thou hast taught 
Use of medicines power fraught. 
I will get them. I will smoothe 
A safe pathway for my love. 
And, perchance, too, find the key 
To happiness and liberty! 

Re-enter Lavarcam with a basket of meat. 
Deirdre takes it and goes into an inner cJiam- 
der, dismissing Lavarcam with a gesture. 

29 



SCENE 3. 

Deirdre's garden. Night. Snow on the 
ground. Enter Naoise mid Lavarcam. 

NAOISE: I go no farther. I am come 

Daring a decree of doom! 

This is Conor's fenced fort, 

Secret kept from all his court. 

Entrance is forbidden here. 
LAVARCAM: And do you his anger fear? 

NAOISE: I no knightly errand known 

Fear or turn from or disown. 
LAVARCAM: Here is one who needs your aid. 
NAOISE: Who? 

LAVARCAM: A prisoner! A maid! 
riAOISE: What is she? 

LAVARCAM: Dost thou recall 
The little lady of the ball 
Overwritten with thy name. 
That it is — the very same. 

NAOISE: How! the child who with a look 
Me her captive captain took? 
Boy — I flushed at once to man 
As her spirit thro' me ran. 
Faithfully her face have I 
Shrined in my heart. An augury 
Sudden in it was revealed 
Of something in the future sealed; 
A hope, a promise and a want 
That forever must me haunt. 
Far have I wandered, far have sought, 
In many a land and many a court, 
For her face, that gliding gleams 
Still before my days and dreams. 

LAVARCAM: Needs she now thy arm and arms. 



NAOISE: Springs to guard her from alarms 

All my life and force and friends. 

Is she here? 
LAVARCAM: Within! 
NAOISE: Thus ends 

Man's search at his threshold door. 

I must see her! 
LAVARCAM: Look before! 

Gliding from the castle wall 

Comes thy suppliant queen at call. 
Enter Deirdre cloaked and muffled to the 

eyes. 
NAOISE: Lady of the slender height, 

Muffled black and masked in night, 

I your servant, soldier, stand 

Waiting upon your command. 

If you are but only one 

Wronged or tnreatened or undone, 

Speak! What manhood can, will I 

To rignx you. But, O mystery, 

Marvelous, if you be she. 

Star of all my storm-tossed life. 

Guiding goddess of my strife, 

She whose light on me did blaze 

Early in my morn of days, 

She indeed my queen; why take 

My knee for utter reverence's sake, 

Take thou my never yielding sword, 

Order my being. In a word, 

I am thy servant, lover, lord. 
DEIDRE: And does Naoise doubt me? I 

Knew when his presence but came nigh, 

Tho' walls hid him thicker far 

Than these slight disguises are. 
NAOISE: Enough, O goddess. I arise. 

Thy voice updraws me and thine eyes. 

I take thee whom I swear to hold 

Now — ever — aye, beyond the cold 

Precincts of death! 

31 



DEIRDRE: Nay, nay, sir. Wait! 

You are too liberal come so late. 
Go thou, Lavarcam, from the porch 
Light and bring and lift the torch; 
Let him what waits him see, ere he 
Promises in prodigality. 

Exit Lavarcam. 
NAOISE: Who is it doubts nov/? Must I weave 
Web of words ere you believe 
I know you for my love and queen? 

DEIRDRE: Oh, in the bright world have you been. 
And, far and wide, no doubt, have made 
Of protestating oaths a trade. 
While in my prison 1 have grown 
To dream one only face alone. 

NAOISE: Praise be the gods if it be mine! 
Sweet, I grow heady as with wine. 
I must touch you, hold your slender shape. 
Ah, but you mock me with escape! 

DEIRDRE: Wait, sir, oh wait! You do not knov/ 
What frightful monster, wraith of woe. 
Hides in this cloak's fold, neath this hood. 
The which revealed may freeze your blood. 

NAOISE: I know enough. That velvet voice 
Tells of innumerable joys. 
Of form and soul in perfect poise. 

DEIRDRE: Touch me not yet! I would I might 
Summon postponements infinite 
Between us! So great my tenderness 
I would rather plague than bless. 
But here's the torch. Now, sir, you'll see 
What a poor prize you've v^on in me. 

Re-enter Lavarcam with a torch, which she 
holds aloft. Deirdre throws off her wrappings 
and stands revealed, magnificently arrayed with 
gold and jewels in her hair and on her neck and 
arms. 



NAOISE: Oh, you wonder! I must deem, 

Such your glow and such your gleam. 

You're a fairy sweetheart come 

From her mere and moonlight home. 

Green your robe as she would have 

Woven from the grass or wave, 

Sparkle tipped with points of dew; 

And her gold sands blaze on you 

Wrought in ornaments and charms, 

On your brow and neck and arms; 

And with stars her waves reflect 

Are your hair and bosom decked. 

Ah, I halt in fear, for all 

Evanescent, magical, 

Seems your being that this light 

Does dissolve and disunite. 

If you are immortal, stay 

Till I learn from you the way 

To your home! But, oh, more gain. 

Be you mortal and remain 

Here with me and learn the bliss 

That in loving marriage is. 

Human seem your welcoming hands. 

Human your arms, love's yielding bands, 

Human shows the drifted snow, 

Of neck, with sunset hues aglow. 

And the glimpsed paradise below; 

Wholly human is your mouth, 

Red with richest tides of youth; 

And tho' blue as are the skies 

Human, human are your eyes: 

Oh, my love, whate'er thou art 

Thou art sovran of my heart! 

DEIRDRE: Nay, enough! Retire, retire. 
Good Lavarcam, with thy fire! 

Exit Lavarcam. 

I must drape my beauty's booth 
Back in black. So stand we both! 



NAOISE: Back the bud goes to the sheath, 
But I know what's underneath. 

DEIRDRE: Do I please you. Oh, my pride 
Are you, Naoise, satisfied? 
Take my two hands that may be 
Earnest of my gift to thee. 

NAOISE: Sweet surrenderee beyond 
All Imagination fond. 
Is thy beauty. I might bring 
Measures for the valuing 
Of thy splend'^' s one by one, 
If divorcedly they shone; 
But the joined and added sum 
Sinks all estimation dumb. 
Dazzling tho' the whole gift is, 
See, I claim it with a kiss! 

DEIRDRE: Oh, so long I've been in love! 
Will you always loyal prove? 

NAOISE: You shall cnain me to your wrist 
Like a hawk, and where you list 
Launch me out in air, to strike 
Eagle, heron, what you like! 
You shall cry me to the war. 
Cheer me in my flight afar. 
And when you call me i will come 
And drop my hooded eyes at home. 

DEIRDRE: On this silver whistle sound! 
I will come as comes your hound. 
Crouch and watch for your commands. 
Thrust my head between your hands. 
And follow you across the lands. 

NAOISE: Winter's frost and summer's heat 
I will guard you from my sweet; 
I will take you safe thro' foes 
Tho' they rank as thistle rows. 

DEIRDRE: I will make for thee thy hearth 
The very centre of the earth; 
I will keep untarnished there 
Glory won by sword and spear. 

34 



NAOISE: We are wedded! Naoise weds 
Now, to-night with — oh, our heads! 
Comrade of privacy and fame, 
Thou hast told me not thy name. 

DEIRDRE: I am Deirdre! 

NAOISE: Deirdre— thou! 

Dedicate to Conor's vow, 

Child, betrothed to the King; 

Thou whose name does roll and ring 

Over Erin. Dire the word 

More appalled ear has heard! 

DEIRDRE: Dost thou shrink before my name? 
Me, O Naoise, dost thou blame? 
I am innocent of aught; 
Waif in some great current caught. 
Drifted I unto my fate, 
A poor victim dedicate: 
Then thou camest, I struggled, and 
Sought to clutch thy saving hand; 
Draw me from the swirling tide. 
Save me, oh, from Conor's side; 
I will die ere be his bride. 

NAOISE: You are mine and I am yours! 
Life's unalterable laws 
Gives to love such primacy. 
But I blench at what must be: — 
Treason to the loyal King, 
The Red Branch's ruining, 
Flight and fight and awful feud. 
In that mighty brotherhood, 
War and downfall. Let them come! 
Here my honor is at home, 
Here I centre! Deirdre, fly! 
Swiftness is our security. 
Re-enter Lavarcam with torch. 

LAVARCAM: Fly! Aye, well for thee and her 
If ye could. Ye scarce may stir. 
Ye are trapped. 



DEIRDRE: What, nurse, so late. 
Traitor turned? 

LAVARCAM: Not I, but Fate. 

Cailcin has the porch door shut, 

Barred and bolted It, and put 

Period to your flight that way. 

The hounds must wake soon, and the day 

Come and disclose us to the King. 

Trust, friendship, love, all in one ring! 

NAOISE: There Is some exit without doubt! 
AInle and Ardan are without. 
I bade them watch. My whistle's call 
Warns them. 

LAVARCAM: And if it does. This wall 
Is thirty feet in neight. 

NAOISE: The door— 

My sword may win thro' it. 

LAVARCAM: In war 

Invincible, but iron and oak 

Are utter proof against its stroke. 

NAOISE: Wake, Cailcin! Call him! Bribe him. He 
Looks not on Deirdre frowningly. 

LAVARCAM: He's incorruptibly the King's. 

NAOISE: Then out my summons shrilling rings. 

He tlows his whistle and immediately an 
answering call is heard. 

There are my brothers. We will breach 
The wall, or, climbing, overreach. 

DEIRDRE: Come with me! 

NAOISE: Ha! What wouldst thou do? 

DEIRDRE: Here's the way that we must go! 

She draws him to the rear of the garden, 
Lavarcam following with the torch. There she 
throws open the doors of a kennel l)uilt against 



the wall and discloses the dead bodies of three 
great hounds. 

LAVARCAM: Thou indeed hast smoothed the path. 

DEIRDRE: Here, defended by the wrath 
Of these dogs, was left a door. 
But the sentinels guard no more. 
Call your brothers, prithee break 
This last barrier of the weak. 

Naoise sounds again on his whistle and 
rushes into the kennel. The noise of clashing 
steel and rending timbers is heard. In a mo- 
ment or two Naoise reappears with Ainle and 
Ardan. 

NAOISE: Dear, my mistress, to thy court 
Come these warriors to report. 
Ainle, Ardan! From me take 
Their praise and love them for my sake. 

DEIRDRE: I shall love them for their own 
When they are a little known. 
Welcome, gentlemen! 

AINLE: I bow. 

Lady, at your feet, and vow 
Hand and sword and life to give 
To you and Naoise while I live. 

ARDAN: Madam, I like few words best. 
I'm your servant. 

NAOISE: You have gi-essed, 

Brothers, that this is my love; 
But the sequel, chance, may move 
You to leave us. She beside 
Is Deirdre — dedicated bride 
Of Conor. Will you dare with me 
The King's eternal enmity. 
Division in the Red Branch Knights, 
War, pursuit, and endless flights? 

37 



AINLE: I am yours and I am hers, 
Conor's hate or friendship stirs 
Not so quick my human blood 
As the claim of brotherhood, 
Or this girl's eyes you have won. 

ARDAN: It is simple. We are one, 

We must ride where Naoise calls, 
Ride thro' men or waves or walls. 

NAOISE: Oh, then! Swiftness fledge us forth. 
To the Sea and to the North, 
Where does lie a beached ship: 
On, then! O'er me ocean slip 
On to Alba. Deirdre, come. 
Spread thy wings for our new home. 

DEIRDRE: On to freedom anywhere. 
Horses hurling thro' the air; 
Sailed ships darting o'er the sea; 
Plumes and pennons waving free; 
Wide ranged forests unconfined, 
Mansions of the daring mind; 
Mountain tops where foot may scale, 
Level where the eagles sail; 
Seas in tumult; winds that shake 
Builded cloud walls till they break; 
Camps and courts and battle strife; 
All the glow and shock of life; 
In my ears and in my eyes 
Sound and shine these energies. 
Naoise, Naoise, all my soul, 
Prison bred to base control. 
Cries, exults and stands to-night 
Tiptoe, launching forth for flight. 
Farewell Conor, Conor's house! 
I build not upon your boughs, 
I go forth a mated spouse. 

Deirdre throws herself upon Lavarcam and 
embraces her, and then, with the three brothers, 
enters the kennel and disappears. 



LAVARCAM: Young blood rushes on its trad 
Heedless of the following, bisck, 
Phantoms rising where it wings, 
Wreck of kingdoms, death of Kings; 
Yet its beauty were v/ell won, 
Tho' ail earth must be fordone. 

Exit. 



SCENE If. 

A woodland scene in AWa. The ground slopes 
to a 'brook. Noise of hounds in cry and hunting 
horns. Enter Faradach, King of Alba, with his 
suite, in which are Naoise, Ainle and Ardan. 

AN ATTENDANT LORD: Rest thee, sir! 

ANOTHER: This grassy bed 

And this mossed root for thy head. 

ANOTHER: Ha! a drav-ght he needs. Behold 
This carved fiagon wrought of gold, 
Overgemmed with red and blue, 
And within a vintage new. 
Of the grapes from oversea. 
Take, O King, the gift from me. 

ANOTHER: Sir, my horse that you admire, 
The black charger breathing fire. 
Chariot of blood and bone, 
Mount him. Ride him! He's your own! 

ANOTHER: Take my falcon, towering weft, 
Falling like fate inevitable; — 
For a monarchs wrist 'tis fit, 
Air is subject unto it. 



FARADACH: Thanks, oh friends! 
A LORD: Here's Naoise stands, 

And his two lords without lands, 

Silent, brooding, stern, aloof, 

Impersonified reproof. 

To our trivial gifts and graces. 

They bring nothing but their faces 

To make pleasure in your court. 
FARADACH: Naoise is for other sport — 

War and business. While we dance, 

Hunt the stag, or, silken, glance 

Round our ladies' bowers, he makes 

War against the Picts or takes 

A dozen islands in his net. 

Let him be! We will not set 

Trivial gifts against his skill. 

Much we owe to his good will. 
NAOISE: Well thou speakest, good my lord, 

My good will is in my sword. 

Bright and sharp and fit for fight, 

Often drawn to do you right; 

My good will is In my tongue 

That has wrought for you among 

Tribes beyond your courtiers' ken 

Native kin and foreign men. 
FARADACH: So we think, and so again 

Give our satisfaction word. 

Up, ye nobles, let be heard 

Bay of dogs and bugle note! 

The stag shivers in his coat. 

The horns sound and the King prepares to 
go. One of the nohles draws Naoise aside. 

NOBLE: Follow the King! He favors you! 

Some courtier homage tribute do — 

Second in Alba you may reign. 
NAOISE: I? 
NOBLE: Offer a gift. 
NAOISE: What? 

40 



NOBLE: Anything! Your page. 

NAOISE: My page give to the King! 

The King returns. 

FARADACH: How! Do you name me, gentlemen? 

NOBLE: Sir, we spoke of Naoise's page. 
Paragon of any age, 
Past all praising! Slender, tall, 
Like a sapling to its coronal. 
Of blossoms springing. In his face 
Haughty dominion, that of grace 
Bends to do service for you. He 
Is well tutored. He moves free 
In all dances — and his hands 
Play all instruments of all lands: 
And more still rumor tells of him, 
Tho' Naoise hides him thro' some whim. 

FARADACH: Wonder wakes at such report! 
Bring the boy, Naoise, to our court — 
Such talents are like gems and show 
Best where the light does richest glow. 

NAOISE: Your pardon, sir, for my reply. 
The boy is rustic, untrained, shy. 
Unused to companies of men. 
Horribly afraid of ladies. When 
He has got more manners and more growth 
I will bring him to you — nothing loath. 

FARADACH: Oh as you please. The hunt's afoot. 
Bay dogs, blow horns — in rivaling bruit. 

Exit with his train. 

NOBLE: You are ruined. He will ne'er forgive 
Refusal. Learn, young man, to live! 
Flattery, not fighting, pleaseth kings. 
All your past service hollow rings. 

Exit. 

ARDAN: A dozen times I had half drawn 

My sword to slay these things that fawn. 

41 



AINLE: Patience, my brother! And you, too, 

Naoise! Danger dawns in view. 

We are in fair way to be ta'en, 

Prisoned or exiled — maybe slain. 

I think these marplots do not guess 

Deirdre thro' her page's dress,' 

But scon they will — and then the King, 

Lustful and treacherous, a thing 

As weak as cruel, will make prey 

Of such a matchless delicacy. 

Force we have not to withstand — 

I charge we Instant leave the land! 
NOAISE: Where's Deirdre? 
AINLE: At our hunting seat 

Near this, I left her. The retreat 

Is safe, I think. 
NAOISE: Go to her. There 

With our horses, Ardan, make repair. 

I'll to the King and probe his mind. 

If he against us is inclined. 

Off must we and ride down the wind. 
Exeunt in several ways. After a little 

Deirdre comes into the glade. She is dressed in 

hoy's costume and has a hunting spear and 

horn. 
DEIRDRE: A lovely spot is this I vyin 

To wearily do nothing in. 

Hang, bugle, there! Stand, warlike spear — 

Fight for me if aught strange appear! 

Upon the svv/ard I'll stretch me so 

And meditate once more. Heigh ho! 

I am tired of trying twenty ways 

Of yawning. It must be the days 

Are different, but to me, in show 

Reiterate or reversed they go. 

Naoise is half the time abroad. 

In battle or counsel for his lord. 

Ainle and Arden hunt or fight, 

While me they shadow from the light 

42 



In a little lodge retired and hid 

The darkness of these woods amid. 

It must be dangerous to be fair, 

Or a disgrace. Conor would swear 

I was the earth's consummate flower: — 

And so he shut me in a tower. 

Naoise declares unto my face 

That what the world has thought was grace, 

Or woman's perfect excellence, 

Compact of spirit and of sense, 

Ideal for which the poet craves, 

(His very words; the poor boy raves). 

Was nothing to the round of me. 

And so m utter privacy 

He shuffles me into the dark, 

In hideous boys' clothes hid, you mark — 

As if I were a criminal 

Or something that would bite. So all 

The good I get from what they praise 

Is to be prisoner all my days. 

My beauty never did him harm; 

It is not wicked, sure, to charm. 

I wonder is it real and true 

That I am beautiful? What, too. 

Is beauty that men hate it so, 

And like a wild beast keep it mewed 

From preying on the multitude? 

I have seen something in my glass 

That even I have thought might pass 

For pretty. Gray eyes full of fun. 

Red lips that v;itn their smiles overrun — 

A charming morsel of a nose, 

And a white chin. Well, I suppose 

Men know their business in such things! 

Stay, where this oak its shadow flings 

Upon the brook, a mirror rings — 

I'll lock again! Thou cap, lie there 

And let uncoil my praised hair! 

This glade is lonely; no eyes see 

I will be woman momently. 

43 



Re-enter Faradacfi, not for a moment seeing 

Deirdre, who bends over the brook. 
FARADACH: Tired of hunt, I'll rest awhile 

In this glade where frown and smile, 

Gleam and gloom each on her chase, 

Over the brook's dimpling face. 

Some one's before me. And I swear! 

A boy's form, and a woman's hair! 

Can it be, loosed from his cage, 

Naoise out-paragoning page? 

More wonderful than men admit — 

Faith, he'd good reason hiding it. 
DEIRDRE: Who's there? 
FARADACH: A friend. 
DEIRDRE: 

She quickly coils up her hair and replaces 

her cap. 

You startled me! 
But, of course, the woods are free. 
Anything of any kind 
May inhabit here, I find. 

FARADACH: I, my pretty boy, as well. 
Was astonished. Can you tell 
If a knight, young, handsome, strong, 
Naoise named, went here along? 

DEIRDRE: Naoise! Know you him? 

FARADACH: Why, yes- 
He's my friend, and one to bless 
Any man withal. 

DEIRDRE: Forgive 

Slight that in my words might live. 
The man that Naoise draws unto 
Must be good and brave and true. 

FARADACH: And who are you, child? 

DEIRDRE: I'm his page. 

From Erin in his equipage 

Came I. But I live so confined 

My manners you must nothing mind. 

44 



FARADACH: Do boys in Banba wear their hair 
So long? 

DEIRDRE: O, yes, till they can bear 

Crest, and shield, and sword, and spear. 

FARADACH: Naoise's proud with such a boy, 
And knows, I doubt not, to employ 
You in embassies of love. 
Has he sent you yet to prove 
To the Lord of Duntrone's, child, 
How the warrior, savage, wild. 
Fawns on the hand that tames him? 

DEIRDRE: Sir! 

FARADACH: Gifts I know he sends to her 
Silver-livered, frisking does 
War spoil taken from our foes; 
And the business that belongs, 
To the bards he daily wrongs. 
Making staves and making songs. 
Art thou herald pursuivant. 
Gifts to take and songs to chant? 

DEIRDRE: Naoise faithless! 'Tis not so. 
Thou no friend art. Thou art foe! 
False thy face and false thy tongue, 
That a noble fame has strung. 
Bright is he as morning proud; 
Black art thou as midnight's cloud. 

FARADACH: I the King of Alba am— 

Thy lord's lord — and thou, sweet lamb, 

Art a woman — Naoise's dear, 

With whom he sports in secret here. 

Think, if he wrongs thee, thou canst have 

Revenges excellently brave. 

I'll take thee to my court, and there 

Place thee o'er the proud and fair, 

First among the stately dames 

Whose bosoms blaze with jewelled flames. 

And thy lover, he shall kneel. 

Make his suit to thee and feel 

45 



The measure of thy cruelty. 
Thou art silent — turn to me 
That face of uncrowned royalty. 
Ah! thy lithe and supple form 
Rounded, swelling — sends a storm 
Thro' my blood and thro' my soul. 
I am out of self-control; 
I must touch thee, take thee, have 
Kisses that a fiend might save. 

He attempts to take Tier in his arms. She 
breaks from him and seizes her spear and 
stands on guard. 

DEIRDRE: Thou art fiend and fool as well! 
Maker of falsehoods foul and fell. 
Stand, advance not! Though a king 
I will kill thee as a thing 
Desperate and most abhorred. 

Enter Naoise. 

Oh, my love, my guard, my lord. 

She flings aivay her spear and clings around 
Naoise's neck. 

NAOISE: What means this? 

FARADACH: A little play 

To prove your girl's fidelity. 

DEIRDRE: Love, believe no single word 
From that tongue of falsehood heard. 
It has slandered you to me, 
Wagging 'gainst your honor. See 
Those claw fingers trembling; they 
Have touched and tried to draw away 
Me from my duty. Oh, I blush! 
I cannot from my person brush 
All the horror and offense. 

FARADACH: Naoise, you're a man of sense; 
I played but for a moment here 
With this boy-masquerading fair, 
Meaning no harm! 

46 



NAOISE: Sir, you're unarmed. 

I cannot slay you so — and charmed 
Within your court you'd give no chance 
Of meeting me with sword or lance. 
Out of my sight! I leave you! I 
Break and refuse all fealty. 

FARADACH (going): You will regret this— and that 
piece 
Shall yet wait on me on her knees. 

NAOISE: Go! 

Exit Faradach. 

Dear, this comes of being seen. 

DEIRDRE: Oh, my master, I have been 
Dreaming, doting. Idiot-dull. 
This is't to be beautiful! 
Shut me up from human sight, 
Show me only to black night. 
Stain my hands and dye my face 
Till I seem of soma wild race. 
Mask me in obscurest weeds; 
What disfigurement there needs 
To change me from the thing that I 
Am in saddest verity, 
I will suffer, if alone 
I by thee am truly known. 

NAOISE: Hard to hide thee, dear, as hide 
The moon in its mellow pride," 
Mountains hide it, but beneath 
Fall they soon like blackened breath. 
Clouds obscure it, but they break 
And the sky's a rippled lake — 
Here's no safety. We must fly 
To the land's extremity — 
Know I vales where we may live 
Free and no more fugitive; 
Far from Kings and far from men. 
Gloriously glad again. 

47 



DEIRDRE: Let us go. 

NAOISE: I wait till come 

Ainle, from thy secret home, 
Ardan, with horses from the court — 
Then we fling away like thought. 

DEIRDRE: Ah! too long delayed our flight. 

Re-enter Faradach with a press of nohles and 
attendants. 

FARADACH: Take the lady— slay the Knight! 

Deirdre puts her l)ugle to her mouth and 
sounds a long hlast. Naoise rushes upon the 
crowd and strikes two or three down. The rest 
close on him. Faradach and an attendant seize 
Deirdre and are about to carry her off when 
Ainle and Ardan appear. Ardan strikes down 
the attendant, hut Faradach flies. 

DEIRDRE: Red Branch crests to battle fly, 
Red Branch eagles throng the sky. 
Rush, oh, brothers, battleward, 
Strike for Naoise! Guard my lord! 

NAOISE: Form in circle, brothers, form, 
Beating back this puny storm, 
Form a flashing wheel of light, 
Moving on them. Smile and smite. 

They form a circle around Deirdre, and, wheel- 
ing, press on the foe, who give and fly. 

ARDAN: Shall I follow till I find 

The fit King of this foul kind? 

AINLE: No! no moments must we let 

'Scape us. Soon the King will set 
The whole country on us. 

NAOISE: Where 

Are the horses? 

ARDAN: Tethered near. 



NAOISE: Let us to them. Deirdre, we 
Shall find a hospitality 
Truer; sweeter sleep and mirth 
At Nature's banquet, bed and hearth. 

Exeunt. 



SCENE 5. 

A cave looking out upon the seashore. It is 
fitted up for habitation. V/eapons, hunting and 
fishing instruments and tools hang upon the 
walls. A table and rude benches and a bed of 
skins are on the floor. There is a fire at the rear 
near the entrance, at which Deirdre is busied. 
She is in poor, mean garments. 

DEIRDRE: Supper waits. Tho' poor my skill 
Those hungry ones will have their fill. 
It's astounding how they eat. 
Birds are winged and fish are fleet 
To tneir ravening appetites," 
And, when the foamed mead incites. 
They upon this venison haunch 
Will a thousand praises launch, 
As if it were a lady bright 
Or a warrior come from fight. 

She t>laces the meat upon the table. 
Like a beacon sits it there 
To guide my ships that homeward fare. 
What great monsters wonderful 
Men are. They'll be utter dull 
To these flowers I periled neck 
To gather on the cliff, to deck 

49 



Hall and table. They'll not choose 
To see them — as great oxen use 
To puff the daisies with their breath, 
While they crop the grass beneath. 
Oh, my cakes — 1 had forgot. 

She goes over to the fire and rakes aside the 
ashes and takes forth a numder of cakes which 
she piles on the table. 

Would they would come while ail is hot! 

They must be here soon. I will bring 

The mead. They'll want that the first thing. 

She takes from a cupboard a great pitcher of 
mead and several flagons. 

So! my banquet ready is. 

Oh, what pure and perfect bliss 

Thus to serve the ones I love! 

Where does woman richer move 

Than my very self. I have 

A husband, noble, true and brave; 

And a brace of brothers, who 

Guard me as a deer her doe. 

Hunting with them in the highlands. 

Fishing with them 'mid the islands, 

I have wandered weeks and weeks. 

Safely kept from him who seeks. 

Oft on Laidh's overhanging fields 

I have slept on their three shields. 

Oft in Eithe's fairy scene 

Their cloaks my coverlet have been. 

Of this cave now I am queen. 

King of Ulster — Alba's King, 

Defiance unto both I flinc;. 

A whistle is heard. 

Ha, there's Naolse, he comes first! 

She goes to the entrance of the cave and loel- 
comes Naoise, who gives her his how and drops 
a heavy load of birds at her feet. 

50 



NAOISE: Well, girl, I've not fared the worst! 

DEIRDRE: The others have not come. But, oh, 
What a mass of gleam and glow 
Feathered things, bronze garmented! 

NAOISE: They'll eat well! 

DEIRDRE: Poor child, you're dead 

With hunger and fatigue, I think. 
Sit, sir, sit, and eat and drink. 

NAOISE: To my queen I drink and bow! 

DEIRDRE: Oh, don't bother with me now, 
You are faint from want of food. 

NAOISE: Well, enough is here — and good. 

Another whistle is heard. 

DEIRDRE: Which is that? 

NAOISE: Together they 

Went, while I strayed far away. 
Enter Ainle with a great creel of fish and 

Ardan with a deer slung over his shoulders. 
DEIRDRE: Oh, you darling boys! Why here 

Food is 'gainst all famine fear. 

Trout like moonlight turned to ore 

With fire and shadow speckled o'er 

And two salmon. Luck unheard! 

AINLE: Big as both of them a third 
Lost I, and my best line, too! 

ARDAN: 'Scaped. The big ones always do! 

DEIRDRE: But, oh, master of the deer. 

This great monster you have here 

Crowns you this day conqueror. 

Wear this chain that does confer 

Rank and headship o'er our feast. 
ARDAN: It was nothing. Such a beast — 

Who could miss it? 
AINLE: Ardan chased 

Twenty miles around the lake. 

Ere a chance shot he could take. 

51 



DEIRDRE: Well, be seated. Welcome all, 

To this hunters' festival. 
AINLE: Wilt thou not seat thee, sister sweet? 
DEIRDRE: No, I'll graze upon thy feet! 

She moves about the table serving them. 
Then she goes over and stands hy Naoise. 

Oh, my brothers! Oh, my love! 
I brood o'er you as a dove 
Broods within her nested tent! 
Everything is excellent 
In this life of ours for me. 
But for you — can exile be 
Half endurable? Can stir 
Of this woodland character 
Make up for the glorious strife 
Wherewith your older days were rife. 
Are you happy? Tell me true. 
Ardan dwells content in you. 

ARDAN: Happy! 1! 

DEIRDRE: Yes, are you? 

ARDAN: Me, 

Contented! 

AINLE: Let him drain his drink — 

He can't, at once, do that and think. 

ARDAN: There is nothing calls for thought. 
Here are days on days of sport, 
Chase on land, in air and sea — 
Exercise eternally! 
Here's our sister and our queen 
To dress our game — and turn the scene 
To a home where gods m.ight haunt. 
What more can any mortal want? 

DEIRDRE: My dear big brother! Ainle, say 

Wouldst thou rather wing away? • 

AINLE: Sweet my sister — long and late. 
Thou knowest I love to meditate 

■52 



What the bards and Druids dream 

Of the world's enringing scheme. 

Here's my chance. I fish — and so 

The great thoughts that to and fro 

Wander thro' the outer vast 

Take I — many at a cast. 

South our way is barred, and east 

Sits a King with ire increased 

By the failure of his men. 

Us to capture. Surely, then. 

We must either onward press 

Over sea or wilderness 

Or sit here in charmed ease. 

Truly, Deirdre, I'm at peace. 
DEIRDRE: Thank you, brother. Naoise, now 

'Tis your turn to disavow 

Me, and what for me is done. 
NAOISE: Strange it were if I alone — 

I who wear the gem of gems. 

Kings crave for their diadems, 

I who see its fire unveiled, 

Radiance that has never failed — 

Should my happiness deny. 

I am happy — utterly — 

Save to see thee Deirdre thus — 

Thou of soul imperious 

Unto servile business schooled; 

In poor dress thy beauty dulled; 

Thou a jev/el which should show 

By its setting more aglow. 

DEIRDRE: Foolish flatterer. I'd not change 
Had I ail earth's courts to range. 
We're content, then, every one. 
Come, my guests, the banquet's done. 

NAOISE: Yes. Appoint our evening tasks! 

DEIRDRE: Ardan's hard won headship asks 
Ease from labor. Naught for him — 
See the sunset shafts grow dim; 
Twilight from earth's other rim 



Rises. Bring you, Naoise, here 
Wood to make our fire burn clear. 

Naoise goes out. 

Ainle, light the torches. I 
Do my tasks of housewifery. 

They busy tliemselves ivith their respective 
occupations. 

ARDAN: Ho, I am tired! 

AINLE: Is't possible! 

ARDAN: Ho, I am sleepy! 

AINLE: Strange to tell! 

DEIRDRE: I dismiss you — courtier guest. 
By your watch fire take your rest. 

AINLE: Come, Ardan, we're not wanted here. 
Soon the King will reappear, 
Banish us and banish light; 

DEIRDRE: Will you not stay, sir? Then good night. 

AINLE: Good night, sweet sister! 

ARDAN: Aye, good night. 

They go out. 

DEIRDRE: What dear creatures admirable 
These are. But to Naoise — well, 
He is of a different race. 
Larger mould and higher grace, 
I can queen it over these. 
My souTs to Naoise on its knees. 

Re-enter Naoise with a load of wood, which 
he throws down by the fire. 

Ha! my warrior bearing wood — 
Wait a moment. Let this hood 
O'er our cavern be unfurled. 

She draws a curtain of skins over the en- 
trance of the cave. 

54 



Shut are we from all the world, 
Shut from harass, shut from harms — 
. Live we in each others' arms. 

NAOISE: How can there be exile where 

Leagues on leagues of nut brown hair 
Fold me in — a continent? 
How can there be banishment, 
When in depths of your gray eyes 
Love's new lighted beacons rise, 
Showing headlands far remote. 
Woodland, temple, pastoral, cote? 
How can I miss aught that earth 
Marks of moment or of worth, 
So surrounded by such charms, 
The horizon of your arms? 
Come, my girl, be sweetly led 
To our still new nuptial bed. 

DEIRDRE: Oh, too soon — too soon it is. 
Let us dally with our bliss. 
Let us sit here face to face, 
And beneath these torches trace 
Thoughts that flesh transparent are — 
Be removed a trifle far — 
Nay, this table shall be bar — 
Sit and gaze we. And, oh, yes, 
We may have a game of chess! 
Here's the figures mustered. 
You shall have the warrior red, 
I the woman cinctured white. 
'If you beat me I will bite! 

NAOISE: Move, oh, mighty opposite! 
DEIRDRE: King's pawn out. 
NOAISE: I echo it. 
DEIRDRE: Ha! my horses strain the bit. 

So! 
NAOISE: My Bishop marches forth. 
DEIRDRE: Moves my other Knight. 
55 



NAOISE: Full wroth 

Goes my Queen to face the foe. 
DEIRDRE: My Knight threatens it. But, no; 
I withdraw it — change it. I 
Hate, despise such treachery — 
In one move you'd checkmate me. 
NAOISE: Be more watchful! 

A shrill cry is heard without. 
What was that? 
DEIRDRE: 

Starting up in agitation. 
Nothing! Shriek of bird or bat. 

Ainle's voice without. 
Naoise, Naoise, wake, rejoice! 
Comes a man of Erin's voice. 
DEIRDRE: No! a man of Alba, 'tis. 

Hide we, so perchance he miss! 
NAOISE: Ainle, quench your fire and bide 
Quiet on the mountain side! 
The cry is heard again. 
Ardan from without: 
'Tis a man of Erin calls! 
Echoing from the mountain walls. 
Naoise, Naoise — comes thy name. 
DEIRDRE: Alba sends him for our shame. 

Go not forth, my husband! 
NAOISE: Dear, 

For myself the thing I'd hear. 
He goes out. 
DEIRDRE: Oh, my dream, my dream, my dream! 

The cry comes again and Naoise returns. 
NAOISE: It Is Fergus. And I deem 
Happy the event to us; 
Royal, frank, impetuous, 
Loyal friend to Usnach's sons — 
No deceit in his blood runs. 

56 



DIERDRE: It is Fergus, well I know! 

NAOISE: To the beach, my brothers, go, 
There to meet him and here bring 
Home for rr\y wife's welcoming. 

DIERDRE: I knew Fergus at first cry! 

NAOISE: Knowing, why didst thou deny? 

DEIRDRE: I a vision had last night — 
Saw three ravens in full flight 
From Emania flying forth, 
Flying straight unto the North; 
Each one in its beak did bring 
Sup of some sweet honey thing; 
But when us they left for good 
Each one bore a sup of blood. 

NAOISE: What thinkest thou the dream may mean? 

DIERDRE: Fergus coming to the scene, 
Messenger of Ulster's King, 
Bringing honey, bringing sting! 
True herald of false >^onor, he 
Bears deceit unwittingly. 

NAOISE: Needs not that we be deceived; 
But Fergus must be v/ell received. 

The curtain of the cave is thrown aside and 
enter Fergus in full armor; after him Ainle 
and Ardan. 

Oh, to see thee once again — 
King of battle! King of men! 
Welcome, Fergus, to our hearth. 

FERGUS: I have run you to the earth. 
Ha! my man of Erin — thou 
Unto whom the best must bow — 
Glad am I that our two hands 
Meet once more in iron bands. 

NAOISE: Be my wife — be Deirdre known, 
To my friend shall be her own! 

57 



FERGUS: Deirdre! This indeed is she 
Rumored over land and sea; 
She whose name thro' many realms 
Bares the swords and shakes the helms; 
Like a goddess seen by few, 
But haunting the whole country thro'. 
Deirdre! Beautiful thou art, 
Outward moulded from thy heart! 
I thy soldier at thy feet 
Offer up my life complete. 

DEIRDRE: Do not mock me, mighty sir — 
Thou art Fate's great officer. 
I in Fortune's graces bad — 
Most indifferently clad — 

FERGUS: That shall be as you desire. 

NAOISE: Seat you, Fergus, by the fire. 
We are mad, man, for the news. 

DEIRDRE: First the draught the woodland brews. 
Let me serve our guest withal. 

Fergus, drinking. 

Luck unto this cavern hall, 
Luck to Deirdre, Naoise, all. 

NAOISE: What of Ulster— Banba— say? 

FERGUS: Go and learn yourself. You may! 

NAOISE: How! 

FERGUS: Thus: You are forgiven all! 
Homeward Conor does you call! 

NAOISE: Well, I doubt it. 

AINLE: So do I. 

Rather farther must we fly. 

FERGUS: Listen! In his Royal House 
Conor sat in mid carouse. 
Red Branch heroes sat around, 
Warriors, too, from foreign ground; 
There Cuchulain's matchless might, 
There Feircetne, poet Knight, 
58 



Cathba there and Conall there 

Glowed upon the torched air. 

Feasting, drinking, singing, praising, 

Warrior-art and Beauty raising. 

Sat the circle at its ease 

All in concord, all at peace. 

Rose up Conor — ''Knights," he cried, 

"Need we aught to make our pride 

Still more perfect? Lack we yet 

Jewels for our carcanet." 

"No," we answered; "all is well." 

"Ah," he sighed out; "I can tell 

Three great wants— three lights that fail, 

Luminaries of the Gael, 

Usnach's sons, the glorious three. 

Lack to our festivity. 

For a woman they are lost — 

Little purchased at much cost." 

Then we shouted in accord, 

"Dared we, we had said, oh, lord. 

Long ago, that very word." 

"Fergus, go, ambassador 

To these nobles we grieve for. 

Bid them back, to reassume 

Their old places in this room. 

And be Deirdre sorrow shriven, 

Fugitive no more, forgiven! 

Fergus go — with feet of flame." 

So the King — and so I came. 

NAOISE: Whether it be deep deceit. 
Or the wine cup's generous heat, 
Nothing Conor's word I trust. 
Thou believest, as thou must. 
In the King's sincerity. 
Blackest plot it seems to me. 

AINLE: 'Tis impossible! No man 
Could forgive as this King can. 
What! His long betrothed bride 
Stolen; all his dreams and pride 



Humbled, tumbled on the ground! 
And to him who gave the wound 
Sends he messages of peace! 
Fergus, miracles do cease. 

ARDAN: We're content with what Is won. 
Hunters' risk all men must run; 
But who ventures, unarmed, in 
A bear's den bearing the cub's skin — 

FERGUS: So! I thought to find you thus 
Doubting and incredulous. 
But remember! Facts you'll find 
To prove Conor's noble mind. 
By tne warrior conclave doomed 
Was the babe who now has bloomed 
To this glowing human flower. 
Her he rescued by his power, 
Bred her nobly, touched her not, 
Maiden left her without spot. 
Think, oh, sons of Usnach, too, 
Of his favor unto you. 
Well it may be that his age 
Spreads o'er you all in parentage. 
He is honest — that believe — 
And no plots does Fergus weave. 
Think, too, heroes of your life 
Exiled from the knightly strife. 
Soon does valor rust, unused — 
Soon the wreath withdraws, refused. 
You may chase the deer and take 
Fishes from the ocean lake, 
But no honor comes your way. 
But no glory gilds your day; 
Sounding trumphets, shattering spears, 
Wake and live not in your ears. 
Comes no clamor of your peers; 
Splendor, standing o'er the dead, 
Splendor, sat rose garlanded 
In the banquet after fight — 
To all this you bid good night. 



Naoise, come! Within its stall 
Stamps your steed at battle call. 
Ardan, come! The ranked men 
Wait to cry your name again. 
Ainle, come! Great eyes grow dim 
That for you with light would swim. 
Back, oh, heroes, with me go. 
Comrades wait you — waits the foe. 

NAOISE: Oh, King's son, my heart is sad 
With the hopes my morning had — 
Glorious combat, glorious games. 
Growing of our warlike names. 
From my shield I turn in gloom. 
Sigh at shaking of my plume; 
My sword breathes reproachful breath 
When I draw it from its sheath. 
In my dreams I fighting pass 
Where the foeman thickest mass; 
In my dreams again I see 
High Emania's heraldry. 
Shields ablazon in their rank. 
But where mine should be — a blank. 
It is over— all is done — 
I must on as I've begun. 
Driven here and there' neath ban, 
Patient hunter — fisherman. 
Deirdre is my joy, my care 
She makes life sweet anywhere. 
And shall I surrender her 
To Conor as a conqueror? 
Not while breath does in me stir! 
End thy pleadings — say no more! 

FERGUS: Unto Deirdre's self I turn — 
Lady, will you here inurn. 
Like the ashes of the dead. 
Heroes of the war crests red? 
Here thy life is poor and hard, 
Endless toil for poor reward; 
Homely duties do thee tire; 
Homely robes eclipse thy fire; 

61 



Suns shall scorch thee, snows shall freeze; 

Rough and hard shall grow thy hands; 

Gray shall streak thy brow's rich bands; 

In thy youth thou shalt be bent, 

Pale with grief and discontent; 

And thy swiftly darting mind, 

Unto petty things confined. 

Shall lose its wings that match the wind; 

And thy lover he shall see 

All these changes wrought in thee. 

See him chained to such a wraith; 

And shall curse thee with his breath; 

Pouring on thee words of blame, 

For frustration of his fame. 

Now the other picture see: 

Glorious halls of revelry; 

Gardens rich with ardent flowers; 

Cool chambers for thy dreamy hours; 

Servants waiting on thy will; 

Wines and viands wrought with skill; 

Garments splendid, gold bedecked; 

Gems that bedew thy flower aspect; 

Poets' praises to thee sung; 

Companionship the wise among; 

And thy fame borne fair and far. 

Blazed o'er Erin like a star. 

By thy love — the lord of war! 

Cans't thou doubt to choose this path, 

Doubt the joys the future hath? 

DEIRDRE: III becomes it I should deem 
Myself so desired a dream 
That for me war must unfurl. 
Such a coil for one poor girl 
Were a folly — and perchance 
Conor means what you advance. 
But I know his iron will. 
Direful doubts my bosom fill. 
But that way I cannot hark, 
But that way to me is dark. 
62 



Yet if it be as it is, 

That I keep my lord from bliss, 

From the paths that he has trod — 

Keep my husband and my god 

He may go, tho' breaks my heart. 

He may from our home depart. 

I some poor man's hut will seek, 

Surest refuge of the weak. 

And will pay for miy small needs. 

Tending herds or weaving reeds. 

Go, oh, Naoise, to your fame. 

Go from her your mouth shall blame. 

FERGUS: Halt, oh, Naoise, hear my oath: 
By the wheeling sky fires both. 
Sun and moon — by all the stars. 
By the sea and mountain bars — 
I will keep you safe from harm. 
Not one look that may alarm 
Deirdre, shall upon her fall 
If my power prevail at all. 
Conor's faith is pledged to me; 
Pledge I mine again to thee. 
And as surest hostage thing 
My two sons with me I bring. 
If ye die, then they must die. 
And for more security 
Bring I pledge of Conall's faith; 
He v/ill guard you to the death. 
And the great Cuchulain sends 
Message to his first of friends. 
That he stands upon the path. 
Keeping you from Conor's wrath. 
Deem you this enough? Decide. 
I no more with you may bide. 

He rises. 

NAOISE: Aye, enough — enough indeed — 
We were craven more to need, 
nearest thou, Deirdre? Fergus swears 
Us to safeguard. Conall dares 
63 



Conor's power — and, the most, 
Great Cuchulain — like a host, 
Guards us on yon hostile coast. 
Girded by such swords as these 
All the Kings of the four seas, 
Could not pluck thee from my side. 
Off to Erin — home — we ride 
O'er the sullen plunging tide — 
Ardan, Ainle, fill our chest; 
Take the best and leave the rest. 

Ardan and Ainle go to work to fill a large 
chest with weapons and clothes. 

Fergus, may we wing our flight, 
May we go abroad to-night? 

FERGUS: Come. I've wine in hold that you 
For ages have been stranger to. 
Dresses for Deirdre, too, I have — 
And my boys her coming crave. 

DEIRDRE: Pardon! by this lonely hearth 
Let me wait out your time of mirth. 
I've much thinking yet to do 
Ere I be among your crew. 

NAOISE: Deirdre, 'tis your lord command. 
Cease silent wringing of your hands, 
Cease to be In black relief 
The statue of a dream of grief! 
All is joy, girl! Thou'll become 
A goddess in our new old home — 
Wilt not to the boat? Well, then- 
One kiss until I come again. 

ARDAN: Way for the exiles' baggage train. 

Ainle and Ardan go out carrying the chest 
between them. 

FERGUS: Come, Naoise, the wine waits in vain. 

They go out and Deirdre is left alone. 

DEIRDRE: Wonders of my mountain home 
Alba, never had I come 

64 



Here save following my love. 

Now to death his footsteps move. 

I must leave thee — in whose wild 

Arms I cradled like a child. 

Vale of Laidh, oh Vale of Laidh, 

Soft thy slopes for me were made! 
I. Vale of Masan, where I had 

Rocking sleep in branches glad! 

Glendarua, mountain vale, 

Sheltered from the shattering gale, 

There the cuckoo's voice I heard, 

I, unfettered as the bird! 

Dearer yet this cliff of Droighn, 

Where the sands and waters join, 

Where I lit my cavern fire, 

Glowing like my love's desire! 

Let me kiss this entrance door: 

Stately forms pass here no more. 

Let me kiss this banquet board: 

Joy no more may it afford. 

Let me, oh, embrace my bed, 

Where no more my lover's head 

Shall sleep, pillowed on my breast. 

Cold, oh, cold must be the nest — 

My brain is wildered thro' and thro' — 

Something I have yet to do. 

What is it? Ah, yes, 1 must 

Make ready for our voyage to dust. 

She goes to a cuploard and takes therefrom a 
little vial. 

This which did the manhounds still 

Can my frailer forces kill; 

This can keep my form and face 

Safe from Conor's dread embrace; 

Nestle on my bosom thou, 

Better guard than Fergus' vow! 

I must lay me down, I think, 

Tho* my eyelids scarce will sink. 

On my lonely bed begins 

The divorce that death soon wins! 

65 



She lies down on her hed of skins. Then 
there enters, in apparition into the cave, the 
spectral forms of Naoise, Ainle and Ardan. The 
last two carry a large open chest between them, 
which they set down on the floor. They all seat 
themselves at the table in silence. Deirdre 
springs up at first to greet them, but sink;* 
back in fear. 

Back returned! oh, joyful hour, 
Ends the spell of Conor's power. 
Luring us unto our doom! 
Your own minds ye reassume! 
What is this? Cold horrors freeze 
Thro' my bosom's mould, at these 
Beings of unearthly mien, 
Stalking so upon this scene; 
With their faces ghastly white, 
Blazing with some under light, 
With their unreturning gaze 
Forward looking into space, 
With their dank and matted hair; 
With their garments as of air; 
Naoise, Ainle, Ardan — who 
Fill your forms up now, to do 
Things of fell and dread intent? 
Ye are seated. Excellent! 
I would totter to my feet. 
Serve ye there with wine and meat. 
But my limbs refuse their wont, 
My blood freezes at its fount. 
Bodies are ye from the grave 
Corpse-lit signals set to save? 
Are ye pre-existing ghosts, 
Rivals of men's marching hosts, 
Their unearthly opposites. 
Whose dim domination blights 
Mortals when to them revealed? 
Bring ye word of doom concealed? 



Awful apparitions, are 

Ye the heraldings of war? 

Silent, silent, sit ye there, 

With your eyeballs fixed on air; 

Not a motion, not a sound. 

Save me! Save me! On the ground 

Grovel I and hide my face. 

In my bedclothes' warm embrace 

I shut out that phantom blaze. 

A pause. 
Wait the apparition's still, 
Sight to blast and life to kill? 
Ah, they sit there as before, 
Moveless more, and dreadful more! 
But one mighty shape that wears 
Ardan's image, as a glass, 
Slowly, slowly to me turns. 
White his face upon me burns, 
Moves his hands unto his throat — 
He undoes his cloudlike coat; 
Oh, the great and awful gash, 
Showing like a crimson sash 
On the white and pillared neck. 
Pity, pity, oh, thou wreck 
Of my noble brother's might! 
Turns he from me — -from the light! 
And the second spectre bends — 
Image of my best of friends, 
Ainle— with a solemn smile. 
And he lifts his helm the while! 
Horror! 'Mid those clustering curls, 
BurniGhed, glowing like a girl's, 
Is a great and gaping wound. 
Hide me! All the world whirls round! 
For the third soul-freezing dream, 
That does Naoise's image seem. 
Turns on me his glorious eyes. 
Wherein dwell all majesties. 
All the sadness, all the charm 
That does the immortals arm, 

67 



And he opes his cloudy vest, 
Shows the secret of his breast. 
Oh, upon that whitest flesh 
Blood is oozing — redly fresh — 
I must die — my strength is done, 
All my spirit is forgone. 

She falls hack on the bed. A pause. 
Air, i must have air — must rise. 
Black shapes move before my eyes. 
Ha! they clear away. Stone set 
Is that ghastly circle yet. 
No! in lofty courtesy 
They rise, too, to echo me! 
Now they leave me — rooted fast— 
And each one as he files past 
Bows to me with solemn grace: 
I must leave, must leave this place. 
See! Their burden back they bear 
To some palace of the air! 
What strange treasure, secret thing, 
Guard they so — so carrying? 
I must see it! Power comes back, 
I can move upon their track. 
Ha! They halt and place once more 
Their burden down upon the floor. 
Open to my fearing sight; 
Stand they back to give me light. 
What is this enrobed in white. 
Filmy, jewelled, exquisite? 
'Tis a woman's slender form, 
Broken flower, crushed by some storm. 
Half the face of it is shown — 
'Tis my own — my own — my own! 
Me at last my soul forsakes! 

She falls swooning to the ground. The lights 
go out, the vision disappears. In a moment or 
two the curtain of the cave is flung open, dis- 
closing the pale light of dawn. Naoise stands 
in the doorway. 
NAOISE: Deirdre, come! The morning breaks. 



SCENE 6. 

A 'brilliantly lighted chamher in the House of 
the Red Branch at Emania. A great stairway 
opens at the rear to the lower floor. Windows 
at the hack. A table furnished with wine, 
chessmen, floivers, etc., at one side. Arms are 
hung upon the walls. Deirdre, Lavarcam and 
Naoise. 

LAVARCAM: Back! Oh, back! 
DEIRDRE: How camst thou here, 

Mother-nurse? 
LAVARCAM: In hurrying fear, 

When was known thy coming, I 

Left Conor's palace secretly, 

Swift to warn thee, swift to send 

Thee a backward course to wend. 

What doest here, ill-omened bride? 

Bringst her, man, to Conor's side? 
NAOISE: Why, oh, mother, all is well. 

All yet is hospitable. 

We're received with feast and lights. 
LAVARCAM: Aye, but not among the Knights — 

Not as guests in open hall, 

Mid the Red Branch festival; 

There some safety might be had. 

But here, 'mid the trophies sad. 

Heads of enemies and arms 

Won on fields of old alarms, 

Ye are sent. And ye are come 

Here to wait your hour of doom. 

Where is Fergus? 
NAOISE: He was met. 

Taken in a pledged net, 

When we landed, by a Knight 

Who claimed the hospitable rite. 

But his two sons sent he on, 

He will follow by the morn. 

69 



LAVARCAM: Better never than too late! 

Oh, the fools, the fools of fate! 

Ha! the royal eagle sends 

His sole brood to evil ends. 
NAOISE: But Cuchulain with us stands, 

Shield against all armed hands. 
LAVARCAM: Petty blaze of border strife 

Keeps him, at the moment rife 

With all consequence of ill, 

From you. Such is Conor's skill. 

NAOISE: Conall Cearnach, he alone, 
Like a rock whereon is blown 
Waves to spray and filmy mist, 
Will suffice us to resist. 

LAVARCAM: The King's jesters yesterday, 
In their bragging and their play. 
Challenged him unto a bout 
Of drinking the day in and out. 
They are at it. Conall's head 
Is a maze disordered; 
Friend he knows not from his foe. 
All thy bulwarks are laid low. 

DEIRDRE: We are taken In a net; 
Round us are the hunters met. 
Struggle we a little yet. 

LAVARCAM: There's one hope. With feast begun 

Conor's blood not yet doth run 

Fire enough to make him mad: 

Some little time is to be had. 

Put you on some poor disguise, 

Steal you forth tnro' guards and spies. 

Seek some shelter, till friends can 

Make head against that desperate man. 
NAOISE: No! I will not. Deirdre may. 
DEIRDRE: Leave you? When was that my way! 

Like a pigeon long repressed 

I fly home unto my nest; 

I was born here — here will rest. 

70 



Naoise, my soul wakeneth 
To the practice of high death. 
NAOISE: Some shall die ere we be cold. 
This place is strong and fit to hold. 
We can boast five mighty swords, 
Better Ireland scarce affords. 
Ainle, Ardan, Ulric, I — 
Irloth. Are these men to fly? 

LAVARCAM: Bar the doors, the windows bar; 
Every implement of war, 
Spear and sword and barbed sting, 
Pile up for your warfaring. 
If ye can but hold the house 
Till Conall wake from his carouse, 
Till Fergus or Cuchulain come. 
Ye may put aside the doom. 
I will hie to Conor, and 
Will give the King to understand 
That Deirdre is a wraith of woe. 
Wreck of the maiden he did know, 
A ruin of rich womanhood, 
Discrowned of her hair's rich flood. 
Worn with hardship, pale and thin, 
Unfit his court to enter in, 
Not worthy of a thought of love. 
Ugliness hates he. This will move 
The King his onset to delay. 
And the winged hours are in our pay. 

DEIRDRE: Noble nurse! For us go forth. 
Something I will show of worth. 

Exit Lavarcam. 
Do our brothers, do our friends, 
Naoise, know what storm portends? 
NAOISE: Nothing! Gay and blithe they feast. 

Hark! Their revel noise increased! 
DEIRDRE: Call them hither. Tell them all. 
NAOISE: 

Going to the head of the stairs. 
71 



Ho! below there in the hall! 
Ainle, Ardan, Irloth — here. 

Ainle, Ardan, Irloth and Ulric come l)ounding 
up the stairs. 

IRLOTH: Prince, before you we appear. 

NAOISE: Heroes, chiefs of Ulster, men, 
We are taken in a den, 
Treacherously death beset. 
Conor's trap is ready set. 
We have entered. No retreat 
Is there for this woman sweet, 
Or for me, who from the King 
Snatched such blazing wonder thing. 
But there yet is time for you 
To turn back, make terms and go 
Safely from our shade that kills. 
Brothers, ah, I know your wills. 
You disdain to make reply. 
Well, our threefold force we'll try. 
But ye others? Fergus' brood? 
Half pledged eaglets — warriors good. 
But unpracticed — will ye save 
Lives the future will prove brave? 
We release you. Bid you go. 
Ye may easy pass the foe. 

IRLOTH: With one voice our spirits speak. 
Never will we promise break. 
Thou our father's pledge has ta'en. 
We hold by it, till again 
Comes he as your sheltering shield. 
Never, never will we yield 
Up the lady. So we both 
Kneel before her to make oath. 

DEIRDRE: Brave defenders! Glorious youths! 
Great the souls behind your mouths. 
Mine leaps forth in equal poise. 
Naoise, may I kiss these boys? 

NAOISE: 'Tis permitted. 
72 



DEIRDRE: There and there, 

Irloth, Ulric! Badges wear 

On each blushing cheek and brow. 
She kisses them both on the 'brow and cheek. 
IRLOTH: I spring up a hero now! 
ULRIC: I am crowned like a King! 
AINLE: If such favors are a-wing, 

Seems me I should have a share. 
ARDAN: And I, too. My sword will flare 

Fiercer thro' the foeman flood, 

If thou wakest thus my blood. 
DEIRDRE: 

Flinging herself into Ainle's arms. 

Oh, my brother, wisest friend. 

Bear my kiss unto the end. 

Message of my grateful heart. 

Embracing Ardan. 
Mighty one, who tookst my part. 
From the hour thou saw'st me first, 
Still undreading at the worst. 
Still undoubting. Ever move 
With assurance of my love. 

NAOISE: Now to make this place secure. 

Make a fortress of our lure. 

Ha! When Conor comes, he shall 

Find a wall behind a wall. 
They throng tumultuously down the stairs. 
DEIRDRE: Now my soul a little learns 

Of the belting fire that burns 

Round the universal world. 

Beauty, art thou in me furled? 

Thou a torch art in the dark, 

Thou art the half slumbering spark 

That can make a bonfire blaze. 

Thou art wonder and amaze 

To the dulled, tired mortal mind 

Thou art idol, worshipped, shrined, 

73 



Lifting liuman thoughts above; 
Thou art inspiration, love; 
Wine and warmth art thou to make 
Starved and frozen hearts awake; 
Thou art poison subtly sent 
Thro' each veined integument; 
Thou art gem of pulsing rays, 
Man-consuming in thy blaze; 
Thou art basilisk at whose look 
Mortals fall as thunderstrook; 
Flower of envenomed breath. 
Thou art treason, hatred, death; 
Thou art shaker down of Kings, 
Leveller of all lofty things. 
Dost thou me inhabit now? 

She sees a burnished mirror of steel on the 
wall near the table. 

Here's a witness will avow! 
Yes, 'tis something. Triumph so 
May I? Never! Tremble? No! 
I am faultless. I am Fate. 
Love I usher — usher hate. 
Yet my color comes to know 
If I go to death, I go 
As a somewhat equal foe. 
And it seems unto my eyes 
I am robed for sacrifice. 
White my garment: filmy lace. 
Does my neck and arms embrace, 
Pearls upon my bosom fall. 

She sees a basket of flowers upon the table. 

Here are flowers wherewithal 
To put fire in this pale ghost. 
Conor, art thou lover-host, 
To send garlands to thy dear? 
Well, I'll use them. 

She arranges flowers on her bosom. 
74 



Roses here. 

Now a crown to top my hair — 

Red and yellow mingling there. 

She swiftly arranges some flowers in a gar- 
land, twining it into her hair. 

Now more suited I appear 
To the battle ball that's near. 
Perfumed so with roses wreath 
For the bridal bed of death. 

Re-enter Naoise. 

NAOISE: We are ready. When they please 
We will meet their courtesies. 
Let the swarm upon us fall! 

DEIRDRE: Hear you aught from Conor's hall? 

NAOISE: On the stillness of the night 

Far off noises, laughter light, 

Song of revellers, upward swell. 

DEIRDRE: Waiting is intolerable. 

Here are chessmen. Come, the same 

Old and interrupted game 

Let us finish. 
NAOISE: As you will. 

May the blood-scent bring you skill. 

Why you splendor, fairy elf. 

What have you done to yourself. 

DEIRDRE: Made myself as beautiful 

As one should whose breast is full 
Of reverence for her warrior lord. 

NAOISE Dear, your hand across the board! 
DEIRDRE: There, the pieces are reset. 
'TIs your move. 

NAOISE: Your King I threat; 
Check. 

DEIRDRE: Pawn's interposed. 
NAOISE: Again, 

With my Bishop. 

75 



DEIRDRE: Bishop's ta'en. 

Ha! My lord, 'tis you are wild. 

NAOISE: Yes! I'm playing like a child. 

DEIRDRE: Take it back. Oh, gods of grace. 

Naoise, see that hideous face 

Peering thro' the window there. 

Disembodied, hung in the air. 

The embrasure is so high. 
NAOISE: 'Tis a foul and felon spy. 

Take that, sir, for your reward. 

He picks up one of the heavy chessmen and 
flings it at the face. It disappears and a crash- 
ing fall is heard. 

Ha! height climbers may fall hard. 

DEIRDRE: Well, our game is done again. 
It is time to face the pain 
Of our parting. Sweet, to-night 
Ends perchance our wedded rite. 
Can you, Naoise, her forgive 
Thro' whom your days are fugitive? 

NAOISE: Forgive her? Thank her rather, I 
My crown of all felicity. 

DEIRDRE: Have I really happy made, 
Satisfied you, to a shade. 

NAOISE: Thou art perfect woman, wife, 
Goddess, making rich my life. 

DEIRDRE: Was your love not from me wiled 
By the Lord of Duntrone's child? 

NAOISE: Pshaw! That was before we met. 
It was nothing. Pray forget. 

DEIRDRE: Well, I'm happy. Kiss me. So 
To my last sleep I can go. 

NAOISE: Why will thou so sadly yield 
Hope up of this unfought field? 
Hard the struggle, great the cost, 
Ere Conor wins and we are lost. 

76 



There are no warriors in this pale 
Who singly 'gainst us can prevail. 
Each of us is fourth in place 
'Mid the heroes of our race. 
We three might Cuchulain fAce. 

DEIRDRE: Pardon! I will banish fear. 
A war goddess, I will cheer 
On thy battle's brave discord. 
Naoise, let me have your sword. 

NAOISE: Here it leaps from out Its sheath. 
Bless it — warm it with your breath. 

DEIRDRE: Sword of splendor, swiftness, might, 
Keep my lover well to-night. 
With embraces I caress, 
With my kisses I you bless. 
Oh, thou sharp and gleaming steel. 
Feel my heart, my bosom feel. 
All the strength I have to aid 
I invoke on thee, oh, blade! 
Keep my lover well to-night, 
Sword of splendor, swiftness, might! 

A 7ioise of bolts drawn and door opening is 
heard below. 

NAOISE: What's that? My sword! The foel 
Farewell! 

Re-enter Lavarcam hurriedly. 

LAVARCAM: Naoise, guard thee! Opens hell! 

NAOISE: Wakes Conor from his revel swoon? 

LAVARCAM: He is arming, coming soon. 
Hear, my children! When I told 
Him that Deirdre had grown old, 
Wan and faded, all his fire 
Dulled — his blood did make retire. 
Yawning, turned he to the feast, 
And the thought of her dismissed. 
By and by doubts rose. Said one: 
Send a spy. The thing was done. 

77 



Very soon returned the spy, 

Bleeding, blinded, maugre eye. 

But with cry of wonder keen, 

As the woman he had seen. 

Gorgeous, glowing, garlanded, 

Rose wrought flesh and rose crowned head. 

"Ah," he swore, " 'twas worth an eye 

To see such piece of witchery; 

And a King his kingdom might 

Give to own her for a night." 

Raging, flaming, Conor rose. 

Cursed me for his foe of foes. 

Called for arms. The warriors, too. 

Armed them, rushing to and fro. 

Soon about the house they'll hem. 

NAOISE: Well, I go to welcome them. 
Exit. 

DEIRDRE: What to do, Lavarcam, dear. 
Now the tempest circles near? 

LAVARCAM: Wait, as waits the gambler's stake. 
Till the last throw sure does make — 
Who does own it? 

DEIRDRE: If that throw 

is for Conor, then I know 

Well enough what must I do. 
LAVARCAM: What dost mean? 

DEIRDRE: Hast thou forgot 

The man-hounds? 
LAVARCAM: The drug hast got? 

DEIRDRE: In my bosom, precious thing. 
Past all this apparelling. 

LAVARCAM: Violence won thee— violence ends. 

DEIRDRE: Dear, my nurse, again be friends! 

Seat thee on this hollow chair. 

Sit and stroke again my hair. 

Thy fondling of my maidenhood 

More than man's caress was good. 

78 



LAVARCAM: All the glorious things of earth 
Are ill-omened from their birth; 
Stars strike at them, and the gods 
Punish them with envious rods. 
Evanescent — a cloud's mood — 
Must be thy glow of womanhood. 

DEIRDRE: Clank of armor, heavy treadi 
Hark, the foe is mustered! 

Noise of men gathering. Then the clear voice 

of Conor comes from without. 
CONOR (without): Open there! The doors wide 
fling! 

Open unto Ulster's King! 
NAOISE (below): Doors are deaf and men deny 

Ever a base plotter's cry. 
CONOR (without): Die, then, thou revolted thief, 

Robber of thy kingly chief. 

On, Knights! Break the door! Kill all 

Save the woman in this hall! 

Noise of l)reaking timbers, hurtling of mis- 
siles, clashing of swords and armor, cries of 

wounded. 
DEIRDRE: Mounts my soul up, bound on bound 

On the music of this sound; 

Shouts of hatred, stern reply! 

Sing the spears, the arrows fly. 

Whizzing, whistling! Whirl the swords 

Crashing thro' the armor guards. 

Strike, oh, Ardan! Ainle, strike! 

Irloth, Ulric, bear up like 

Sons of your great warrior sire! 

Rage, my Naoise, like a fire 
NAOISE (below): We win, Deirdre. Baffled, they 

Draw back from the stags at bay. 
DEIRDRE: I must aid them, serve them, who 

Shield me from the fatal blow. 

Here is wine. I go, to wait 

On the guests within my gate. 

79 



She takes up a salver with wine and gohlets 
and descends the stairway. 

LAVARCAM: Dogs are many, stags are few! 
Conor's drunk and bloody crew 
Most prevail. Oh, Conall, rise 
To prevent this sacrifice! 
Fergus, haste! Cuchulain, burn 
Air before thee in return. 
Midnight hours be lightning drawn! 
Succor comes in with the dawn. 

AINLE (below): Health to Lady Deirdre. 

IRLOTH (below): Health, 

Life and love and rule and wealth. 

NAOISE (below): Deirdre, back, some missle may, 
Chance sent, find thee in its way. 

DEIRDRE (below): All my honor, reverence, love, 
With you, warriors, fighting, move. 

She ascends the stairs reluctantly, listening 
to the combat, which begins again. 

CONOR (without): Men of Ulster, will ye let 
Three swords balk you and defeat? 

IRLOTH (below): Count us, Conor. Fergus' pride, 
Fergus, unto whom you lied. 

CONOR: On, in nobles! He who turns 

Takes from me the death he earns. 

The conflict is renewed with redoubled fury. 

DEIRDRE: Stoop! Descend, oh. Victory! 
We are all too young to die. 
See, Lavarcam, all the days 
Of the future burn and blaze , 

There before me. They defile 
Like an army, mile on mile, 
Captained by the glittering years. 
Bearing on their pennoned spears 
Gifts for me and for my love; 
They are thick as is a grove, 



Blossoming, fragrant. First they bear 

Love's rich trophies for a pair, 

Young and innocent and good; 

Then the joys of motherhood. 

Children smile to me and nod 

Down the long drawn period. 

Then comes honors, wreaths and crown. 

All the tribute of renown; 

Wealth pours out its varied store; 

Wisdom's dreams grow more and more; 

And the long procession ends 

With a quiet train of friends. 

This may be — and this must be. 

Grant it, grant it. Victory! 

Re-enter Irloth, sioord in hand and stagger- 
ing. 

Ha! art hurt? Art wounded? Lean 

On my arm. 
IRLOTH: A scratch, I ween. 
DEIRDRE: Water, cloths, Lavarcam, find. 
Exit Lavarcam into an inner room. 

Here, thou nestling of the wind. 

My young eagle, seat thee. Troth 

I'll thy leech and nurse be, both. 

Gapes thy helm and neath it there, 

Furrows forehead, furrows hair, 

A red path. It is not deep. 

Nothing worse for it, thou'lt sleep. 

Re-enter Lavarcam with a 'basin of water and 
some linen. 

Good, the water. Gently, so; 
Do I hurt thee? 

IRLOTH: Lady, no. 

I am in a pleasant dream. 

DEIRDRE: Broken heads are a poor theme 
For a vision. Bandages 
Now apply I. Do they press 
Somewhat tightly? 

81 



IRLOTH: No; I think, 

Oh, what joy, so near to drink 
In thy beauty. 

DEIRDRE: Pish! my dear. 

Now, then, rest thee, slumber here. 
IRLOTH: Rest me, while the warriors beat 

Almost up unto thy feet? 

Rest me while my comrades wroth 

Keep the gateway? Rest in sloth? 

No, divine one, see I go 

Forth, I rush upon the foe. 
He descends the stairway. 

LAVARCAM: Short his life, poor one, will be. 
Better than long agony. 

DEIRDRE: No, they win, they win for me. 

A great crash is heard 'below — the door is 
broken in. Tumult and clash of arms and 
armor. 

NAOISE (below): To the stairs. I'll hold them back. 

They're too crowded to attack. 
CONOR( below): On, oh. Knights and overwhelm 

This sole rebel of the realm, 
NAOISE (below): Come thyself, O Conor. Here 

Stands the bridegroom of thy Fear. 

Ha! Munremer, that for thee! 

Down thy throat thy loyalty 

Push I, Celtchair, thro' thy guard — 

Conor pays thee thy reward. 

Ardan and Ainle appear at the head of the 

stairs, taking their stand on either side of it. 

AINLE: Up, oh, Naoise, we are set. 
NAOISE: 

Springing up the stairs and standing between 
them. 

All the force of Ulster met, 
Can this vantage fort but threat 
Where such weapons, thrusting, crown? 



AINLE: Irloth's down and Ulric's down! 

NAOISE: Thirty warriors do they have 
As their escort to the grave. 
See, our foemen hesitate, 
Crowding back unto the gate. 

AINLE: Conor comes on, great and grim, 
I will try a shaft at him. 

NAOISE: Missed thou hast. But Owen Mor 
Rolls there grasping at the floor. 

CONOR (below): Will you let me, all alone, 
Force this fort of the o'erthrown? 
Who with me the stairs will try? 

SEVERAL VOICES (below): I will— I— and I— and I. 

NAOISE: They are coming. Brothers, shout! 
Let our battle cry ring out. 

DEIRDRE: 

Taking a harp doivn from the wall and strik- 
ing its chords. 

Ardan, Ardan, wind that blows 

Down the forest of thy foes: 

Ainle, Ainle, lightning flame 

Lunging, plunging thro' the same; 

Naoise, Naoise, thunder roll 

Bursting, deafening on the soul 

Of the perjured, plotter King; 

I thy names to battle fling; 

Fame shall praise, far futures sing! 

Blaze terrific in your wrath. 

Blocking all the battle path; 

Blaze ye shapes of horrid fear 

To the foul King who is near: 

I a vision saw last night. 

Saw four stars whose glowing flight 

Long was halted, long delayed, 

Tangled in the twilight braid 

Just above the ocean marge; 

On a sudden they grew large. 



They did mount and they did rise 

To the forefront of the skies, 

Van of all the fiery host, 

Blazing out like suns, almost. 

This our omen, these our stars! 

Ye shall live for other wars. 

Naoise, Ainle, Ardan — charms 

Aid the valor of your arms. 
CONOR (below): That's the voice of her who 
wrought 

All division in my court; 

That's the witch from me has flown. 

Comrades, come, I claim my own. 
The Ultonians rush up the stairivay, but are 

met and rolled hack by the three defenders. 
NAOISE: Five are down and three are sped: 

Conor self were with the dead. 

Save his slipping feet afford 

Mercy from my conquering sword. 
DEIRDRE: 

Striking the harp. 

Laugh, oh. Alba, wreathed in smiles! 

Eagles gathering from thy isles, 

From thy bare and austere crags. 

Swoop upon the foe who flags. 

See the now transfigured brave, 

They have won and me they save; 

And the felon King they send 

Flying to his fitting end. 

Death to him and to his name. 

Honor and eternal fame 

Be upon you, brothers three. 

The betrothed of Victory! 
NAOISE: Where is Conor? He is gone, 

And the Knights rush here and yon. 

See, the torches down they tear 

Burning in the sconces there; 

To the timbers and the walls 

They apply them. Crackling crawls 

84 



Flames along the window eaves, 
And the thin smoke writhes and weaves; 
Worse than weapons, worse than war! 
Form we men as once before, 
Form with Deirdre in our mid; 
We with whirling swords can thrid 
Thro' the thinned field of our foes. 
Ready — down the phalanx goes! 

CONOR (below): Dash those fires out! I proclaim 
Truce. To weigh our equal blame 
And to judge us, Cathba comes. 
Cathba, worker at Fate's looms, 
Prescient seer of mortal dooms. 

VOICES (below): Hail, oh, Cathba! Cathba hall! 
ARDAN: Shall we let this prophet pale 
Enter to us? 

AINLE: Ah, we must 

Vain is sword stroke, or spear thrust 

'Gainst the Druid lord of charms. 
Cathba mounts the stairway. 
NAOISE: Lower, brothers, lower arms. 

Let the priest In thro' our fence. 

Thro' our useless cirque of sense. 

Enter Cathha. 

Take, oh, seer, our reverence. 
CATHBA: Heirs of Usnach's glorious race, 

Great of mould and fair of face; 

Woman of immortal charms, 

Whom I last saw babe in arms, 

Let this strife and slaughter cease; 

Let unfold the wings of peace. 

Ye are safe until your friends 

Gather here from Ulster's ends. 

Judgment fair shall then be heard, 

I have Conor's oath-clinched word. 
NAOISE: Never will be drop our swords, 

Till a stronger pledge affords; 



Until Fergus home does ride; 
Till Cuchulain by our side 
Fronts the King with fiercer pride. 
We had Conor's word before; 
False were all the oaths he swore. 

CATHBA: Then it must be I proceed, 
Tho' reluctant is the deed; 
But this direful dream of death, 
Cries the vulture harkeneth, 
Brother, brother striking down. 
And Emania's walled town 
Grown a charnel house of woe. 
This must end; I will it so! 
Listen — hear ye not that sound 
Thunder the horizon round? 
Now the rain begins to fall — 
Thicker, faster, fiercer — all 
The thick piled clouds in flood 
Emptied on the earth below. 
Now the river leaps its banks. 
The waves rush in levelling ranks 
Over meadow, over wood 
Comes the sudden whelming flood; 
Trees and timbers on it borne, 
Houses levelled, cities gone. 
See, it surges to our feet! 
Now the tide the knee does meet; 
Rises it unto the throat; 
We are lifted, are afloat; 
Swim, oh, heroes, ere ye be 
Borne out to the raging sea! 
Help, oh, heroes, Deirdre drowns! 

The Jieroes listen in stupefaction at first. At 
the final adjuration they drop their weapons 
and strike out as if swimming. Naoise and 
Ardan seize Deirdre's hands to support her. 
Conor and the Ultonians creep up the stairway 
and seize and Mnd the defenseless warriors. 



Conor, smooth thy deadly frowns. 
My part ends; but here I stand 
For their safety fronn thy hand. 

CONOR: Thy part ends, but opens mine, 
Part of brooding, deep design. 
Irretrievable, their doom 
Instant, imminent does come. 
Slay them, nobles, where they are! 
Slay these rebel lords of war! 

Naoise, Ardan and Ainle are stricken down 
hy the knights. Their bodies roll dead on the 
floor. Deirdre wakes from her stupor, utters a 
shriek and throws herself upon them. 

CATHBA: Horrible! It sears my sight 
Like the fire-bolt's blasting flight. 
Three great trunks that high did tower 
Over Erin in their power. 
Struck down. And that woman flower 
Who grew on them crawling still 
O'er their prostrate forms at will, 
Dabbling in their foaming blood, 
Babbling words not understood, 
Kissing, lapping with her tongue 
Those red blazoned faces young. 
Oh, the terror! I grow cold! 
I am weary, I am old! 

DEIRDRE: Naoise, wake! The morning breaks, 
Fall the sunlight's fiery flakes 
On your body. What, dost sleep? 
Tired from vigil thou didst keep? 
And my brothers slumber on — 
They are weary and outworn. 
And my wandering fingers show 
The red dew that wets each brow. 
Naoise, if thou wilt not wake 
All my kisses thou must take; 
Thou must fold me in thy arms, 
Safe, oh, safe from mortal harms. 
87 



CATHBA: Monster of an iron heart, 
Conor, do the tears not start 
Even from thy cruel eyes. 
At this piteous sacrifice. 
Thou accursed art for aye; 
Thou art banned by human cry; 
Thee the elements abhor; 
Thee the sun does shudder for; 
Water draws back from thy hand; 
Earth does groan 'neath thy command; 
Air itself in clouds does hood; 
Only fire shall find thee good. 
Thou art Conor — thou art King; 
But I curse thee for this thing. 
Thou mayst live and thou mayst reign, 
But thy days are days of pain, 
And thy troubled nights shall have 
Ghosts thick coming till thou rave. 
Thou mayst reign and thou mayst live, 
But thou Shalt be fugitive; 
Thou Shalt see Emania's wall 
Blazing flame and darkened fall! 
Thou mayst reign, but here shalt none 
Of thy body mount the throne. 
Blotted from the book of Fate 
Shall be all thy name and state. 
Save the bards with hissing verse 
May thy infamies rehearse. 
Faithless thou, again, again — 
Slayer of defenseless men, 
Maddener of this piteous thing, 
All my scorn unto thee cling! 

A clatter of horses has heen heard without. 
Fergus and his retainers ascend the stairway. 

FERGUS: What means this? 

CATHBA: Oh, Fergus, see 

Conor's deed of butchery! 
And thy two sons they lie dead 
Where thy foot but now did tread. 



FERGUS: Feared I some such deed designed. 
Dreadful thoughts beat on my mind 
As my horses hurried on. 
So — my — sons — my props are gone; 
And these noble gentlemen, 
Lured by me to butchers' den — 
In their crimson drapery sleep, 
And this woman lives to weep. 
Useless grief and useless words — 
Nothing answers here but swords, 
And these wait yet. Conor, I 
Break my troth and fealty. 
When my boys again shall come 
To their desolated home. 
When these heroes shall arise 
Me to greet with gracious eyes, 
I'll forgive you. Until when 
War defiance take thou. Men 
Who have seen this hideous act. 
Or have trailed behind the fact. 
Choose ye which to follow now. 
Him or me. If me, you vow 
Vengeance on this craven King— 
And, retreating with me, form 
Nucleus of a mighty storm. 
Needs no words, but silently 
Range yourselves with him or me. 

A dozen of the knights range themselves with 
Fergus. The remainder cluster behind Conor. 

Farewell, Conor. Thou hast wrought 
Deeds of evil — evil fraught. 
Ulster In succeeding days 
From thy act shall break ablaze. 

CONOR: 

Who has been leaning on his sword, listening. 

Hold! The King disdains reply; 
Strength is its own warranty; 



But the comrade, but the friend, 

Hears these outcries that ascend. 

Think, oh, Cathba. Fergus, think! 

When that woman, from the brink 

Of the unknown, tumbled in 

To our turbid world of sin, 

Rosy infant — laughing child, 

Stainless, sinless, undefiled. 

Thou, oh, Cathba, wrought Doom's wreath 

For her forehead. Thou her death, 

Fergus, didst demand, decree; 

She had died except for me. 

Her I kept from those who cursed 

Nobly rescued, nobly nursed. 

'Twas my power, 'twas my gold, 

Made the woman flower unfold; 

By my generous care designed 

Grew her mould and grew her mind; 

Yet I held her sacred, shrined. 

Like an idol, worshipped — till 

She should take me of her will — 

Then came on that blackest night. 

Came the falling off and flight 

Of the youths my love had made 

Foremost in their warrior trade; 

Came descent to common lure 

Of the thing I kept so pure — 

"Tower, nor wall, nor Conor's arms 

Kept," cried men, "his queen of charms." 

Well I kept my head and crown. 

And I laughed the laughers down. 

But dost think I did not brood 

O'er the huge ingratitude? 

What are pledges, what are oaths 

To the man who loves and loathes 

As I did? Those men must die 

Who brought scorn on majesty; 

90 



And that woman whom I made, 
She shall ply for me her trade, 
Serve my hours of lust and ease 
With her practiced offices. 
Draw your men off if you will, 
Fergus, Cathba, prate of ill; 
But this woman at last is mine. 
Deirdre, wake. These dead resign! 



DEIRDRE: 



She starts up and confronts Conor. Her face 
and arms and dress are streaked with blood. 

They are dead, are dead, are dead! 

All my woes remembered 

Bui'st upon me. Thou the King, 

Conor, art. About me ring 

Voices of my deadly foes. 

Ah, none other live than those. 

Conor calls me to his side, 

Conor courts me for a bride! 

Wouldst thou, Conor, from this mouth, 

Dabbled with the blood of youth. 

Take the challenges that move 

All the rising tide of love? 

Wouldst thou have these arms that are 

Fit for ensigns of red war. 

Round thee in thy naked bed? 

I belong unto the dead! 

Listen, Conor: From the first 

Felt I thee a thing accursed; 

Thro' me ran a shivering thrill 

When drew near thy form of ill; 

Still I shuddered at thy touch, 

Tho' I schooled me overmuch; 

Like a bird I sought my mate. 

Flew 1 forth from out thy gate; 

Got and gave a glorious joy 

With my wondrous warrior boy — 

Thee again I stand before; 

But I tremble, thrill, no more! 

91 



From the fear I am exempt. 
Hatred left is, and contempt 
For thee, for the world that has 
Living thing In it so base; 
For the sun and stars that brook 
On a snake like thee to look; 
From all such I will withdrav/ 
To the worlds of other law. 
Look, oh, King — rememberest 
How thy manhounds sank to rest? 
What their mighty frames could still, 
Will my frailer forces kill. 
I drink to thee — on the floor 
Dash the cup — shall pledge no more. 

She drinks the poison and throws the vial 
from her to the ground. 

Off! I claim a sovereign's right. 
I am bride of Death to-night. 
Give me leave to seat me here 
On this throne of force and fear. 
Off! Ends my concern or strife 
With the false designs of life! 

She seats herself hy the dead bodies. 

Oh, my husband! Oh, my lords, 

Life no fitting time affords 

Me to deck you for the grave! 

I would have you rich and brave. 

Cleanly, newly garmented, 

And with flowers upon you shed. 

Take these roses from my hair; 

These that did my bosom share; 

These for funeral favors wear — 

Ha, thro' all my body rolled 

Goes a tremor! I grow cold. 

Ha, again on Mona's rill 

Moonlight slumbers, slumbers still! 

Ha, the hunt in Alba's on! 

Thro' the night glades we are gone — 



Bay the dogs, the crashing stag 
Falls to knee — his forces flag; 
Ainle treads the moonlit path, 
Ardan bursts thro' woods in wrath; 
Naoise with me hand in hand 
Lightly runs along the land: 
Now he leaves me — he does stand 
There beside our woodland home — 
Oh, my love, I come — I come! 

FERGUS: It is ended. Wheel, my men! 
Conor, when we come again 
Look to see a gloomier pall 
Than broods o'er this funeral. 



93 



PERSONiE 



IV.eve. 

Cuchulain. 

Fergus. 

Oilioll. 

Magach. 

Niall. 

Owen Mor. 

Feralad. 

uonloach. 

Fiercetne. 

FInrhin. 

Conor. 

Conail. 

Sencha. 

Amargin. 

Mac Roth. 

Laeg. 

Donal Roe. 

Finnabra. 

Feithlinn. 

Knights, Soldiers, etc. 



MEVE 



8CENE 1. 



A rocky plain. Night. An outpost of Meve's 
army, consisting of three soldiers, ivho sit or 
stand heside a camp fire. 

FIRST SOLDIER: Whew, the fog chills! 

SECOND SOLDIER: Thro' and thro'. 

THIRD SOLDIER: From what quarter, friends, are 
you? 

FIRST SOLDIER: Leinster I, the Maines band. 

SECOND SOLDIER: My home is in Meve's own land. 

THIRD SOLDIER: From the South! Ye do not know 
Aught of fog, or rain, or snow: 
We of Ulster often sleep 
Where the snow is seven feet deep. 

FIRST SOLDIER: You are one of Fergus' men. 

THIRD SOLDIER: Yes, an exile come again 
Into Ulster. 

FIRST SOLDIER: Well Meve has 

Such great allies. All our race, 
All the men of Erin most 
Are concentrated in her host. 

THIRD SOLDIER: What's the quarrel? 

SECOND SOLDIER: Hast not heard? 

THIRD SOLDIER: No! I flew here like a bird 
Out of Britain, no war word — 
Scent of plunder in me stirred. 

97 



SECOND SOLDIER: Hast not heard of the Dun 
Bull? 
Meve, you know, is masterful — 
Woman grafted upon man, 
Woman on a warrior plan; 
And her husband, Oilioll, is 
But a thing of superfice. 
Outward Kinglike, inward fool. 
With blood running tame and cool. 
Late they quarreled as to which 
Was best fortuned, was most rich. 
So they numbered all their goods, 
Jewels, silver, gold, in floods; 
Bracelets, toques, tiaras, rings, 
All the panoply of Kings; 
Armor, horses, lands and kine; 
Orchards, herds of sheep and swine, 
And assessed them. Each made good; 
Equal poised the balance stood, 
Save that Oilioll had a Bull, 
A white creature, wonderful. 
With which Meve could nothing show: 
She had heard that Dare, though. 
There in Ulster, a Bull had 
Larger, mightier. Straight she bade 
Ten of her best courtiers go 
And ask it of him, offering so 
A hundred heifers in exchange. 
Dare did the trade arrange; 
But one drunk ambassador 
Swore 'twas well he yielded, or 
They had seized it. Dare then 
Turned, threatening from his house, the men; 
Hence Meve's anger. Dun Bull bent 
Hence this mighty armament. 

THIRD SOLDIER: 'Tis all one to us, when we 
Plunder can in plenty see. 

FIRST SOLDIER: Rich is Ulster? 



THIRD SOLDIER: 'Tis a land 

Dropping fatness. At command 

We'll have corn and milk and wine; 

Beeves too fat to run, and swine 

Almost ready cooked. 
FIRST SOLDIER: I'd drive 

A herd of them away alive. 

SECOND SOLDIER: With my queen I would com- 
pare! 
Bull and 'heifers for my share. 

THIRD SOLDIER: Pish! You're low In your intents. 

Everywhere gold ornaments 
Are in Ulster — pearl and gem; 
And white women who wear them — 
These my choice. 

FIRST SOLDIER: I say, the night 
Drags out dull and infinite. 
By the fire here let us dice. 
He who gains the earliest prize, 
Be it woman, bracelet, cow, 
Unto him of highest throw 
Yields it. He the thing shall win. 

THIRD SOLDIER: By the fire the game begin. 

They bend over the ground in the firelight to 
their game. As they do so an arrow crashes 
thro' one of them and he falls forward on his 
face. The others spring up, and a second arrow 
takes one in the throat and he falls backward 
dead. The third soldier turns to flee, but as he 
does so he is confronted by the figure of Cuchu- 
lain, who cuts him doivn with his sword. 

THIRD SOLDIER: The foe! We are taken! A sur- 
prise! 

Dies. 
CUCHULAIN: Lie there, thou traitor thing of lies! 
These the first dead of the war, 
First flights of migration are. 



L.wiQ. 



Go they to the gods' abodes, 

With the rumor that the roads 

Thereto shall be choked with ghosts, 

Dismal dreams of marching hosts. 

Go they heralds to prepare 

For Meve's hordes that downward fare. 

Oh, the glorious hour of Fate! 

I stand here against a state. 

Only now I looked adown 

From a mountains' summit crown, 

Saw the infinite array 

Of Meve's camp fires stretch away; 

Like the belting Autumn blaze 

Darting red and golden rays; 

Like to fallen stars of night 

Centred in a city bright; 

Like the populace of waves 

Foaming crested o'er their graves. 

On the other side the scene 

The dark slopes of Ulster lean. 

Not a moving light, or still, 

On the dusk of vale and hill; 

Nor a gleam of lance or sword 

Coming to defend the ford; 

Not a whisper, murmur, sound 

Of muster the horizon round. 

Conor in Emania lies 

Sick with dreadful phantasies, 

Thing of fever and of fears; 

Deirdre's wailing figure rears 

Nightly by his stricken bed; 

Sencha is to Alba sped; 

Conall, dreaming in the North, 

Drinks, forgetting faith and troth; 

All the champions scattered are: 

None is left to make the war 

But myself. 'Tis well! In wrath 

Stand I on an army's path. 

Every lurking place to hide 

Know I of this country side; 

100 



Every bush and rock and tree 

Is a covert unto me; 

I in darkest night will thread 

Under, round them, overhead; 

Slay Meve's outposts, pierce her bands, 

Wage a war with my two hands. 

All the strength to which I've grown, 

All the skill my mind has known. 

All my dreams of earliest youth, 

Manhood's purpose, faith and truth, 

Every star ray searching sent 

To my soul; each element 

That has gone to build my form, 

Gathers to me in one storm. 

As a lion leaping flings 

On a herd of huddled things; 

As an eagle darting goes 

On a scattered field of crows; 

As the sun with shafts of light 

Bursts the clouds that check Its flight; 

So I leap and dart and flame. 

Now to leave my single name 

Signed to this assize of death! 

Ho, Laeg, when thou listeneth. 

Bring me parchment, bring me pen! 

Enter Laeg, the charioteer, from the rear. 
Cuchulain writes. 

So I tie it to this spear 

Which I set a-quiver here. 

Who shall come, who shall read. 

Know the warrior with his deed! 

On, Laeg, to the next patrol — 

This night's work shall shake Meve's soul. 

They go out and the wheels of a chariot are 
heard moving off. The fire flickers out and the 
fog settles densely over the scene. Then an- 
other chariot is heard approaching, and Meve 
enters, driving alone. She is clad in complete 
armor. 

101 



MEVE: "Whosoever not returns 

Thou returnest." The word burns 

In my mind. But, pshaw! More clear 

Than the dreams of Druid seer 

Are my plans. The Ulster land 

Open lies at my command. 

Conor's sick and Conall's far; 

Scattered are their flocks of war. 

I have but to move — and all 

Ulster's walls before me fall. 

Say, thou shape, what being art, 

Riding here on my war cart? 
Feithlinn rises up 'before Meve on the pole of 

her chariot. 

Splendor of the stranger folk 

Rising up on my cart's yoke, 

Robed in speckled coat of green, 

Where gold ornaments are seen; 

All the red and white of youth 

In thy face; and thy red mouth 

Parting on two rows of pearls. 

Who art thou, thou queen of girls? 

Ha! the whiteness of thy skin 

Gleams like snow thy meshed robe in; 

Two locks of thy gold hair show 

Crownlike bound around thy brow, 

And a tnird descends to meet 

Thy gold ankles and thy feet. 

With a bronze sword thy hand weaves 

Broidery of Autumn leaves 

From thy balls of russet, red, 

In thy girdle there bestead. 

What dost make? What dost do? 
FEITHLINN: I thy fate and future show. 
MEVE: Dost thou know me — know my name? 
FEITHLINN: Thou art Meve. Behind thee flame 

All the men of Erin — come 

For the downfall of my home. 
MEVE: Name and lineage hast thyself? 

102 



FEITHLINN: I am Feithlinn— fairy elf, 
Prophetess of magic cry. 

IviEVE: Well, what dost thou prophesy? 
Seest the hosts I have here led? 

FEITHLINN: I see crimson, I see red! 

MEVE: Conor keeps his fevered bed; 
There is nothing I need dread. 
My hosts soon in whelming wave 
Sweep the land — there's none to save. 

FEITHLINN: I see crimson. I see red! 

IVIEVE: Conall with a wife new wed 
Keeps his station in the North — 
Fergus marches with me forth. 
There is nothing I need dread. 

FEITHLINN: I see crimson, I see red! 

MEVE: Celtchar's dying, rie Is dead. 
Owen Mor revolted lies 
In the mountain's fastnesses. 
I dread nothing. But speak truth, 
Prophetess of kissing mouth. 

FEITHLINN: I see crimson, I see red! 
Over all thy hosts, war led. 
Weave I glamor from the gleams 
Of the hawthorn caught moonbeams; 
Weave I web of morning dew; 
Glassy waters weave I too; 
And my woven net is cast 
Over all the world thou hast; 
Thro' it I see true, see deep. 
Things that in the future sleep. 
Thy camp fires the hillsides parch; 
All the men of Erin march 
At thy bidding — but shall rise 
Soon to shake them — a surprise. 
Hero of a heavenly birth. 
Warrior exercised on earth, 
As a gaunt wolf, circling, takes 
Toll of flock that huddling shakes; 

103 



As a wheeling thunder gust 

From all quarters smites the dust; 

As the ocean tumbling tide 

Eats away an island's pride; 

He around thy hosts shall wreathe 

Garlands of encrimsoned death. 

He shall slay men as they sleep; 

Smite them while a watch they keep; 

Ere the rattle of his arms 

The awakened ear alarms, 

Swift shall fall the barbed harms. 

He shall pierce around thy tents, 

Ranging thro' thy armaments; 

Day shall cover, night conceal. 

That swift moving tower of steel. 

Death shall shake thee and dismay 

Fall on all thy disarray; 

Till thy bands with warlike notes 

Fly at one another's throats. 

He shall with his single sword 

Keep the Passage of the Ford. 

None shall pass to Ulster's bound. 

None my country's glory wound, 

Till the legions of the North 

Gather, muster, issue forth; 

Till the final battle comes 

That shall roll back to their homes 

All thy shattered armament, 

Broken, beaten, flying sent. 

MEVE: Silence, thing of evil tongue; 
Cease thy treason prophet sung! 
Out my sword leaps from its sheath; 
Thou Shalt go before to death. 
If his name thou dost not yield 
Who does use thee as his shield. 

FEITHLINN: Comes Cuchulain, clothed in dread! 
Over all thy hosts war led 
I see crimson; I see red! 

104 



FeithUnn leaps from the chariot and disap- 
pears. The fog lifts and the fire burns brightly, 
revealing the bodies of the dead soldiers. 
MEVE: Ha! my sentinels; do they keep 
Watch for me in snoring sleep? 

She springs from her chariot and goes over 
to them. 

Dead. And sets the crimson tide, 
Druid, Fairy prophesied? 
What is this? A name is writ 
Here: Cuchulain! Death to it! 
Horror! Horror! I must fly! 
On, on, horses! Help is nigh. 
She drives off furiously. 



SCENE 2. 

Meve's tent. Silken curtains at the side sep- 
arate it from an inner apartment. Meve, Oilioll, 
Fergus. Early morning. 
MEVE: What can one man? 
FERGUS: With some right 

I may speak of border fight. 

I have ravaged Conor's lands, 

Burned Emania that new stands, 

But If it is true that forth 

Comes Cuchulain, battle wroth, 

Tho' his watch fire burns alone 

'Gainst the myriads of our own, 

I have mind to draw me back 

With my exiles from this track. 
105 



MEVE: Thou dost fear him? 

FERGUS: Fear him! No. 

I but once can deathward go. 

I a thousand times have thrown 

Dice with death for what I own, 

But none save a fool contends 

With a god on whom descends 

Genius without bounds or ends. 
MEVE: He is mortal; may be met, 
FERGUS: Man nor men have done it yet. 
MEVE: I shall match him. If my brood 

Of warriors in their multitude 

Cannot overwhelm one blade, 

I, a woman, war arrayed. 

Will his sword cross — unafraid. 
OILIOLL: That for me, Meve. 'Tis my part. 
MEVE: Thou! Ye gods, what thing thou art 

'Gainst a mighty foe to send! 

Thy gifts do begin and end 

In curled hair and beauteous face, 

In thy soft limbs' pliant grace. 

Nothing, nothing dost thou know 

Of the soul's heroic glow. 

Thou art good with horses, dogs; 

Good at amorous dialogues 

With my women; but a sword, 

Naked in an angry ward. 

Sends thee shivering to thy bed. 
OILIOLL: Thou'rt too stern, too hard, too dread. 

I've some rights, Meve. I'm thy lord. 

And I know to use a sword. 
MEVE: Women are what men permit. 

Hens crow when the roosters sit 

On the nests. 
FERGUS: Pardon. I must 

Hurriedly hence. This matter trust 

To my vigilance. 

Enter Mac Roth. 

106 



MAC ROTH: I bring 

Tidings of an evil ring. 
IVIEVE: Blurt them out, man. 

MAC ROTH: Half it fears 

Me to pour them in your ears. 

MEVE: Used our ears are to affray. 

They have heard somewhat, man; the way 
To begin is to wade in. 

MAC ROTH: Messengers come thick and fast 
From the outposts that were cast 
All about the host last night, 
In order with their fires alight. 
Half this watch ring circular 
Blackly gapes. The sentinels are 
Dead beside their blotted fires; 
Some together piled in pyres; 
Scattered some about the ground; 
Some killed sitting, as no sound. 
Presage knew they; more as tho' 
Facing an invisible foe; 
Others as tho' ta'en in flight; 
Shafts — shafts sent with matchless might 
Slew the most of them, but some 
Took a massy spearhead home; 
And gaping helms and shattered shields 
Show a sword path thro' those fields. 

MEVE: Sign or signal is, whose power 
Swept around us in that hour? 

MAC ROTH: Yes. Beside each fire, a spear 
Stuck, aye, rooted, in earth there 
Bears a message — bears a name! 

MEVE: 'TIs Cuchulain! 

MAC ROTH: Aye, the same. 

And that makes the more dismay. 
All the camp boils, and men say 
If one warrior — only one — 
Where we looked for struggle none, 

107 



Can do thus — can sweep us hence 
Like a moving pestilence, 
What will come when all the North 
Rises, maddened — issues forth. 
MEVE: Silence, babblers; crowds disperse; 
Let armed guards the camp traverse; 
Double the outposts day and night; 
Go — and stay this senseless fright! 

Exit Mac Roth. 
FERGUS: And I, too, will go and try 

Calm the panic soldiery. 
MEVE: Thou wilt not desert us? 
FERGUS: No! 

I am entered and will go 

On as far as others do. 

Exit Fergus. 
MEVE: Would that I my flight had flown, 
Like Cuchulain, all alone! 
But a woman needeth tools, 
And the senseless blocks and fools 
Turn against me in my hand. 
Will not answer to command. 

Re-enter Mac Roth. 
What makest here? The cry abates! 
MAC ROTH: Magach, King of Munster, waits! 
MEVE: Ha! the blusterer. Let him in. 
Exit Mac Roth. 
Ollioll, leave me. I must win 
This man with what plots I may. 
Thy dullness is but in the way. 
OILIOLL: I could plot, too, were I tried. 
Exit. 

MEVE: Munster must not leave my side. 
Near a fourth of all my host 
Marches with him. 

Enter Magach. 

108 



Fair accost. 

Generous love to Munster's King. 
MAGACH: Madam, this late happened thing 
Stirs me not, except to think 
What do I here on the brink 
Of a war with Ulster. I 
'Gainst Conor have no enmity; 
Nor, need say I, no concern 
For the Bull for which you yearn. 
So in civil mood I come 
This to say — that I march home. 

MEVE: Warrior, Munster's overlord. 
Wilt withdraw thy mighty sword 
From a woman in her need? 
Firm I stand; but thou, indeed, 
Art the sure prop of my hope. 
Who with thee can think to cope? 
Not this night marauding thief — 
Shake thy sword, resistless chief, 
And he slinks unto his den. 

MAGACH: That is well enough; but men 
Fight for profit. I can see 
Nothing in this war for me. 

MEVE: Wilt thou listen? Connacht's line 
Joined in Oiloill's and in mine 
Ends, save for a daughter. 

MAGACH: How 

Does that to the purpose show? 

MEVE: Finnabra is counted fair! 

MAGACH: I've not seen her. 

MEVE: Well, compare 

Her with maidens you have seen. 

Meve opens a little the curtains of the inner 
apartment and motions Magach to look within. 
Sleeps the bud yet in the green. 

MAGACH: Gods, the maid is fair indeed; 
A pearl peeping from seaweed. 

109 



Her white, rounded arm does seek 

The white roundness of her cheek, 

And beneath the coverlid 

Swell and fall the mounds there hid. 
MEVE: Thou has seen enough. Declare, 

Wilt to Connacht be the heir? 
MAGACH: Aye, and fight unto the death 

But to feel tnat maiden breath. 
MEVE: You shall have her. But hark ye, 

inviolable secrecy 

You must keep! Else all the rest, 

Jealous, will break up our quest. 
MAGACH: Not one syllable, one word, 

Ever from me shall be heard 

Till our conquest's o'er and done. 
MEVE: Go, then. Go, my noble son, 

Quiet thy array. Compel 

Peace within the camp to dwell. 
MAGACH: Order! I will execute. 
Exit. 

MEVE: Oh, the tusked and grunting brute! 

Finnabra is not for him. 

But my way is tangled, dim. 

Druid seer may hint defeat. 

Fairy prophetess repeat 

Songs of triumph for my foe; 

Backward I will never go; 

I will win my way thro' woe. 
Enter Mac Roth. 

NIall, Prince of Leinster, waits! 
MEVE: How they throng about our gates! 

Let him enter. 
Exit Mac Roth. 

This is one 

With mind wily as my own. 

Enter Niall. 
Welcome, Prince cf Leinster, here. 
110 



NIALL: Lady! Mighty Queen! I fear 
I unwelcome tidings bear. 
Messengers from mine own court, 
Messages of grave import, 
Draw me backward. Mucii I grieve 
I your conquering fiost must leave. 

MEVE: Hast thou heard the night news? 

NIALL: Some 

Bruit unto my ear did come 

Of night foray — skirmish, raid. 

That is nothing. 

MEVE: Must you go? 

NIALL: In my absence there is show 
Of a gathering of revolt. 
I must like a thunderbolt 
Fall upon it. 

MEVE: Out, alas! 

Things untimely come to pass. 

Only late my consort King, 

Oiloill, spake about a thing 

In your interest. 
NIALL: Ah! And what? 
MEVE: He was talking, planning not. 

Dreaming half, as parents may, 

Of our daughter. I daresay 

You have seen her. 

NIALL: Finnabra, 

Dream of all that men call fair; 
With her sapphire eyes, whose blue 
Deepens, darkens to a hue 
Sea nor sky has match unto; 
With her head already crowned 
By the gold hair braided round. 
I have seen her. 

MEVE: Oiloill said 

Of this host we draw to head, 
Of its leaders come at call, 
Niall overtops them all. 

lU 



NIALL: He but flatters. 
MEVE: Vd not tell 

If I thought so. Were't not well, 

Niall, that our Kingdoms be 

Joined in marriage unity. 
NIALL: I am ready, willing, glad, 

If the girl's consent be had. 
MEVE: Thou shalt have her. But, beware, 

Not a whisper in the air 

Of our compact. Foes there are 

In our camp 'twould drive to war. 
NIALL: I'll be silent. May I see 

Finnabra? 
MEVE: She sleeps. Thou'rt free 

Of our court. 
NIALL: Well, I'll remain. 
MEVE: Thy unquiet soldiers rein. 
NIALL: I'll about it. Queen, farewell. 

Exit Niall. 
MEVE: Only he succeeds who bends 

Human means to human ends. 

Interest, vanity and lust — 

These the horses that I must 

Harness to my chariot's yoke. 

Warriors, Kings and common folk 

Whirled before them are as smoke 

Wreathing to what shape I please. 

While I rule them I'm at ease; 

And the hero who for fame 

Fights, or for his country's name, 

Him before me shall I puff 

Like the thistle's filmy stuff. 

As the frost breath's winged weights. 

Enter Mac Roth. 
MAC ROTH: Ferdiad, son of Daman, waits. 
MEVE: What! Him, too! Well, let him come. 

Exit Mac Roth. 

112 



This is one who seemed at home 
In an eyrie o'er the rest, 
And the soul within my breast 
Sank, half quelled, before his eyes. 
He's but one more to despise! 

Enter Ferdiad. 
Comest thou, warrior, to declare 
Thou hast errand other where? 
Comest to say the first war check 
. Send'st thee whirling down in wreck? 
Comest to say thy selfish sword, 
Loyal only to its lord. 
Fights for profit, plunder, place? 
Go, then. Rank thee with the base! 

FERDIAD: Madam, no! With loyal breath 
Sings my sword here in its sheath 
Names of thee and thine. I came 
To interpret its true flame, 
And a nearer charge to crave 
Round thy person. I would save 
Thee, and thy dear ones defend. 

MEVE: But thou art Cuchulain's friend! 
Schooled by Scathach at one time. 
Fledge flown from her nest at prime; 
Flying since then side by side, 
Equal poised in fame and pride. 

FERDIAD: We are fellows, we are friends; 
Near as string to bow it bends. 
I am like a shadow thrown 
At his feet by midday sun; 
Close and undivorced as 
Is her image in a glass. 
But a mightier impulse now 
Turns me to Cuchulain's foe; 
Mightier instinct, mightier need 
Here my errant footsteps lead. 

MEVE: Tell thy need, man. 
113 



FERDIAD: No, not yet. 

Wait till war's cloud featured threat 
Leaps to lightning, and 1 give 
Proof of what does in me live. 

MEVE: Waiting ever came too late. 
Lovest thou Finnabra? 

FERDIAD: Her state 

Awes me. And her beauty proud 
Lifts that mountain height to cloud. 
Beauty's mould and Honor's mind, 
In my heart's crypt, she's shrined. 

MEVE: Wilt fight for her? 

FERDIAD: Till I die. 

Hoping, hopeless, doubting, I 

Battle for the Queen, I own. 
MEVE: Thou shalt have her — thou alone. 
Enter Finnabra, timidly. 

See, the dove leaps from her nest 

As the hawk sweeps by in quest. 

Dusky night is not yet shaken 

From her hair, her eyes awaken 

Dull yet with their depths of dreams; 

Sweet and soft and kind she seem.s. 

Likest her, Ferdiad? 

FERDIAD: On my knee 

I pray to this divinity. 

MEVE: Thou shalt wed whoe'er not wives! 
So, your hands! I pledge your lives. 
With secret but most solemn oath 
I your maiden youth betroth. 
Silent, silent be your lips 
Till we break thro' war's eclipse! 

FERDIAD: Oh, my lady, my one love, 
I thy knight to battle move; 
I thy lover guard thy days 
Till more bright still thou shalt blaze; 

U4 



I thy promised husband wait, 

Dreaming until opes joy's gate; 

I thy friend, whate'er betide, 

Leap at call unto thy side! 
MEVE: Go now, go. The girl is won! 

Exit Ferdiacl. 
FINNABRA: Oh, my mother! What hast done? 

MEVE: Pledged thee to a noble spouse — 
Pinned his valor to our house. 

FINNABRA: True! It is true! It is so! 

Nobly does this gentle show. 

If a year since I had had 

Such a lover I were glad; 

But to-day it cannot be. 

Seek him, mother. Say from me 

I was frightened, swept along 

By your vehemence so strong. 

Say I honor him, admire. 

Wish him wife of nobler fire 

Than poor me. With thanks, beside. 

Say I cannot be his bride. 

MEVE: Why not, bird with breast storm riven? 

FINNABRA: I am promised, pledged and given 
To another. 

MEVE: Thou'rt somewhat free 

With thy gifts. But who is he? 

F1NNA3RA: Owen Mor. 

MEVE: The Ulster chief! 

Rebel, outlaw, cattle thief; 
Conor's enemy, who comes 
From his secret mountain homes 
Down, indifferent which to strike — 
Ulster, Connaught — both alike. 
How didst thou, thou thing of milk, 
Kept in eiderdown and silk. 
Know this man of storm and war, 
And what dost admire him" for? 

115 



FINNABRA: He is mighty, he is sad; 
In the rags of fortune clad. 
But a year since we went forth 
To Emania — to the North; 
From the women o'er and o'er 
Heard I there of Owen Mor: 
Tales of daring, tales of wrath, 
Of the generous heart he hath; 
How by mandate of the King 
He was driven wandering; 
How unthought of he arose 
In the middle of his foes; 
How long sought for his strong hand 
Kept his head and kept his band; 
And these high recitals so 
Wrought upon me I would go 
Sleepless to my bed at night; 
Thence to pass in stillest flight 
To the platform by the wall 
Of the moonlit capital. 
There my being broke in words: 
"Go, ye visionary birds, 
Tell my love to Owen Mor! 
I my weary state deplore; 
I would trade my haunts of ease 
For his craggy fortresses; 
I his iron couch would share 
So his iron arms held me there." 
Rose a figure at my feet 
Clothed in armor, armed complete, 
Gray the eagle plumes he wore — 
"Lady, I am Owen Mor!" 
Oh, my mother! Can'st command 
In another hand my hand? 
Not while life does thro' me pour — 
I am wife of Owen Mor. 

MEVE: I am glad that I can trace 

More than Oiloill's form and face 
In thee — milk just tinct with blood; 
Thou hast something of my mood. 
U6 



Canst thou to this warrior send? 

Can'st thou move him, can'st thou bend? 
FINNABRA: Swift a message I can send 

If thou wilt our love befriend. 
MEVE; Bid him draw his band anear; 

Bid him fearless enter here, 

With safe conduct thro' our camp; 

Bid the moth come to the lamp. 

Go, my daughter — daughter brave, 

Thou brave cPTildren, too, shalt have! 



SCENE 3. 

Cuchulain's camp. A little hollow in a 
thicket of trees and underbrush. A loophole at 
the rear looks, as from a height, out over Meve's 
camp. Laeg is 'busy grooming two great horses, 
a black and a gray. Cuchulain is seated at a 
rude table over the remnants of a meal. Arms 
and armor are hung on the trees about. 
CUCHULAIN: I am hungry, Laeg. 
LAEG: Eat. 

CUCHULAIN: I have eaten. Could repeat 
Thrice this meagre morsel meal. 
Thou art stone — thou dost not feel. 
LAEG: Stay thy hands from men, and set 

Beaver trap or salmon net! 
CUCHULAIN: Ha! the stag darts thro' the wood; 
Birds throng o'er in multitude; 
Fish in river or in lake 
From the waters flashing break; 

U7 



Them the hunter does not note; 
There's a nobler game afoot. 
Hot the blood thro' him is sent, 
Wide his nostrils take the scent; 
Men in groups, battalions, lines, 
Warfare's marvelous designs. 
Are before him. And he falls 
Like an eagle from heaven's halls, 
Drives them to their tented walls. 

LAEG: Well, then, starve, if so ye list. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art utter heartless. 

A voice is heard singing without. 

Hist! 

There's a singing note I know. 

'Tis Feircetne. Laeg, go 

Thro' our labyrinth barriers, guide, 

Bring the bard here to my side. 

Exit Laeg. 

I am weary; I am tired! 

Save my soul's great signal fired. 

Blazes in me in new birth, 

I would sink here on the earth; 

I would sleep here and forget 

All the labor I am set. 

Twice six days of circling quest, 

Twice six nights that knew no rest, 

I have hung upon Meve's flanks, 

I have broke her mailed ranks. 

Arrows, spears and sword I've plied, 

Great stones from the mountain side 

Flung upon them. For our homes 

Men in piles, in hecatombs, 

Have I offered. As a storm 

Leaps upon the mists that form, 

Tears them, whirls them, drives them wide; 

As a scytheman in hfs pride 

Falls upon a field of corn, 

I have torn them — I alone! 

118 



But with Its own weight my frame 
Sinks — I ache — and maugre shame, 
All my soul cries out for sleep. 
Oh, how soon will Ulster leap 
Forth to aid me? I have done 
All that one man can alone. 

Enter Laeg and Feircetne. 

Ha! my poet. Thou at least 
Com'st to share the eagle's feast. 

FEIRCETNE: If those crumbs be all thou hast 
Poor enough is the repast. 
I bring better. Ope my bag! 
Round of beef and ham of stag, 
Pile of ash baked wheaten cakes, 
Sweet the hived insect makes, 
And a jar of generous wine; 
Now, my hero, you may dine! 

CUCHULAIN: Seat thee, Laeg. Fall to, man! 
Poet, chief of all thy clan. 
Pardon us our manners rude. 
We are starved — are weak for food. 

FEIRCETNE: Hail, Cuchulain, warrior, hail! 
I your ears ask for my tale. 
Use your teeth as best befits. 
This sole sword that by me sits 
I bring to you. But my wits 
Are a mightier armature. 
Thou to do and to endure 
Standest here. I, wandering far, 
Sing our Ulster into war. 
From each castle, from each court 
Bring I absolute report 
Of their wakening. They have shook 
Off the death trance that o'ertook 
Like a cloud, a mist that swims. 
All their senses, all their limbs, 
Celtchair rises from the dead; 
Conall leaves his new bride's bed; 
U9 



Sencha comes the State to ward; 

Comes Amargin, poet lord; 

All his Druids Cathba calls; 

Standing on Emania's walls 

Scan they air's great armament, 

Stars and clouds. Each element 

Weigh they, reckon, scrutinize. 

Incantations, weirdly wise. 

Hurl they at the invading host. 

I have waked them, I can boast. 

And great Conor, when I came 

To his bed of fevered flame. 

Rose up and his great oath swore: 

"Vaulted heaven our heads bend o'er, 

Firm earth echoes to our feet. 

Moving waters round us fleet. 

But save heaven in showers of stars 

Fall; save earthquake shakes and mars 

Vale and mountain; save are sent 

Over our fast continent 

Ocean's blue wrought chariot waves, 

I will drive unto their graves 

All the hosts of Erin's men!" 

So, oh, warrior, rouse again! 

Hold the hosts of Meve at play 

Another and another day. 

Ulster with thy glory rings, 

I hear the Future's whisperings. 

Hero of the hero throng. 

Crowned with praise and crowned with song. 

Endless shall Cuchulain live 

O'er men merely fugitive! 

CUCHULAIN: Quick they come, or come too late; 
Sleep draws me with leaden weight. 

FEIRCETNE: Can'st thou not a little rest? 
Good thy guard, secure this nest. 
I could not retrace my path 
Thro' the thicket growing rath 
Where I entered. 

120 



CUCHULAIN: If I sleep, 

On the hosts of Meve will creep. 

FEIRCETNE: 

Moving over to the rear of the glade. 

Ha! thy windowed loophole shows 

All the forest of thy foes. 

Slope on slope they stretch away 

Infinite in their array — 

Like clouds fallen on a stream 

Rear the tents; the warriors gleam 

Like star patterns In between. 

Wave their crests, blue, white and green, 

And their glittering weapons dart 

Dazzling sun shafts. Meet and part 

Sentries; warriors walk and turn; 

Seems their faces I discern. 

Look, look, look, Cuchulain! There 

Comes a guest of nobler air. 

Like thine are his plumes of red; 

Like thine is his dress vested; 

Like thine, too, his lithe limbs grace, 

But his helmet hides his face. 

Stranger to that host he seems; 

Real shape In a realm of dreams; 

Blazing, sunlike, there amid 

Men to whom he yet is hid. 

None regards him, halts him, stays; 

Cleaves he straight thro' their arrays. 

Now he reaches to the ford. 

He is hidden. Dear, my lord, 

Laeg, thro' the thicket send. 

Guide this being, guide this friend! 

CUCHULAIN: Needs no mortal art to guide 
Mine own kinsfolk to my side. 
While the men of Ulster wait 
Comes a god from heaven's gate. 
Swiftly, with unfaltering pace 
Threads he thro' each secret place. 
121 



I can hear, amid the trees, 
The rustling of his draperies; 
I can feel his warmth draw near, 
See his glory. He is here! 

Enter Lugh. 

LAEG: 'Tis Cuchulain's self appears! 
FEIRCETNE: Or twin opposites earth bears, 

Or a ghost or wraith or god 

Brings wonder to a period! 
LUGH: Sleep, Feircetne, loya! friend! 

Laeg, sleep on thee descend! 

Feircetne and Laeg sink on the ground to 
slumJ}er. 

CUCHULAIN: Royal rival who hast on 

The earth weeds that I have worn — 

As in waters or on glass 

From me does my shadow pass — 

But more vivid, splendid, proud, 

With a vital force endowed. 

Unto which my soul is bowed. 

Fronting phantom! My heart warms! 

I would fold thee in my arms. 

Brother of an unknown birth, 

God descended to the earth, 

Whatsoe'er thou art, thou art 

Comrade of my loving heart. 
LUGH: To my arms, thou glorious boy! 

Not the first time this, in joy 

Held I thee in close embrace; 

Hung I gazing on thy face. 
CUCHULAIN: What dost mean? I know thee not. 

Ne'er have seen thee. Could time blot 

From my memory such a face — 

Myself in removed place? 
LUGH: Knowest thy father's name and race? 
CUCHULAIN: Men say that he was no man; 

One of the immortal clan, 

To Tuatha de Danaan. 



LUGH: List, Cuchulain! Erin had 
Once a maiden good and glad, 
Conor's sister, Dechtire. She 
From Emania, suddenly. 
With the maidens of the train, 
Vanished. Fifty seats remain 
Empty in the palace hall; 
Hears the hollow walls no call 
Cf young voices; sees no light 
Of girl torches blazing bright. 
So for three years. Then there came 
Birds rich plumaged, clad in flame, 
.Settling on Emania's fields. 
Ate they all the country yields; 
Corn and fruit and bladed grass. 
Hunters sought to make them pass; 
But their arrows hurtless fell. 
Airy, unassailable 
Were the flocks. Then Conor rose 
Conall, Fergus, 'gainst these foes; 
Drove their harnessed chariots out, 
Brandished weapons, uttered shout; 
But the birds in stately might 
Marshaled, wheeling south in flight; 
While the chariots underneath 
Followed on o'er plain and heath, 
Mountain track and river shore, 
Till a great mound reared before, 
Was no entrance, was no door; 
But the birds flew in, and in 
Some way did the warriors win. 
There was sunlight without sun. 
There were winds where air was none. 
Gleam of lakes, and ocean's girth 
In the bosom of the earth; 
And a royal palace there 
Reared its fabric frail, fair. 
On its porch a warrior stood: 
Met his guests in courteous mood. 
123 



"Ulster's warriors, Ulster's King 
Misses Ulster anything?" 
"Dechtire's self and Dechtlre's maids 
They have vanished to the shades." 
In I led them, where a-ring 
Fifty maids were gathering, 
And In midst, upon a throne, 
Dechtire sat, and not alone; 
For a boy upon her knee 
Gazed down on us royally. 
Gave I him to Conor then. 
"Take him back to earth again. 
Take, Cuchulain, take my son. 
Warrior he from Dreamland won." 

CUCHULAIN: Father, I in reverence bow. 
Touch my temples! Bless me thou! 

LUGH: I have stamped thy faultless frame, 
I have filled thy soul with flame. 
I remote, immortal, can 
Move not among men, a man; 
But in thee my shadow thrown 
May by men be seen and known; 
in the mould of flesh disguised 
Thou'rt my being realized; 
Thou art mine incarnate force. 
Moving thro' a mortal course. 

CUCHULAIN: But, my father, who art thou? 
Name and power and place avow! 

LUGH: Seest yon wheeling orb on high 
Moving thro' the midday sky. 
Whose swift arrows smite the earth, 
Breaking in immediate birth; 
Who in ocean's effluence shrouds, 
Piling the paviilioned clouds? 
That my dwelling, that my home. 
When I first on earth did come 
Upon Iran's high plateau. 
Where the mighty rivers flow, 

124 



I descended, reared my race, 
Worshippers of that pure blaze. 
Iran left I then awhile, 
Come to Eire's sacred isle. 
Sons successive, glorious, strong, 
Heirs of war and heirs of song, 
'Mid degenerate men I cast. 
To uplift them. Thou the last! 

CUCHULAIN: Father, tho' immortal blood 
All my mortal veins may flood, 
I am broken with fatigue; 
Day by day and league on league 
With an army I have fought. 
Grant me respite. Let be wrought 
Miracle to hold yon host 
While I slumber at my post. 

LUGH: Glorious warrior thou shalt rest; 
For one day I take thy guest. 
For a day and for a night 
In thy form a god shall fight. 
Take thy spear! So! Lean on it! 
Sleep upon thine eyelids sit; 
Slumber thee enwrapping close 
Hold thee in thy warrior pose; 
From thy head unto thy feet 
Glow a recreative heat. 
Peaceful sleep! Refreshed awake 
When the sun again shall make 
Entrance on thy thicket close! 

Cuchulain sleeps on his spear. 

And I go to hunt thy foes. 

Exit. 



125 



SCENE 4- 

Before Meve's tent. The curtains are drawn 
and two sentinels pace up and down in front of 
it. A brilliant starlight night. 

FIRST SENTRY: Well! 

SECOND SENTRY: All's well! 

FIRST SENTRY: Hast tumult heard? 

SECOND SENTRY: Mils silent! Night's unstirred! 

FIRST SENTRY: Doche mac Magach scouts around 
All our tent besprinkled ground; 
With a mighty train of horse 
Draws his shield about our force. 

SECOND SENTRY: Ferdiad, with his foot guard, 
In thick circle, keeps a ward 
O'er the slumbers of the Queen. 
None can pierce our lines, I ween. 

FIRST SENTRY: Aye, the centre of the host 
Is to-night the safest post. 

Lugh enters unperceived. He carries a great 
bundle of heads which he deposits on the 
ground. As the sentinels turn to part, he comes 
between them, and grasping each one by the 
throat brings them noiselessly to the ground. 
Choking them into silence, he swiftly binds and 
gags them. He then lays the heads at their 
feet. 

LUGH: So I exercise my skill. 
So Cuchulain battles still. 

He turns, and with his sheathed sword strikes 
a ringing blow on the pole of the tent. 

So my visit I announce. 

Let those heads my name pronounce. 

Exit. 

126 



Enter Fercliad, ivith drawn sword. 

FERDIAD: What that sound? The sentries gone! 
What is this I stumble on? 
Men bound! Heads with blood yet damp! 
Lights there! Lights! Alarm the camp! 

Enter Fergus, half dressed. 

FERGUS: Ferdiad! Is that you? Some sound 
Startled me in slumber bound. 

FERDIAD: Lights! Get lights! Our mighty foe 
At the host's heart strikes his blow. 

Soldiers rush in with torches. The curtains 
of the tent are opened and Meve and Oilioll ap- 
pear, armed. 

MEVE: Tumult mine own tent before! 

FERGUS: Death has halted at thy door! 

MEVE: Are these men my sentinels? 
Loose, ungag them! Seven hells! 
Are my guard but willow wands, 
Thistle heads and grass blade hands? 
Let them have a lease of breath 
Ere they, too, shall go to death. 

FERGUS: They may make this challenge sure, 
The' we know the signature. 
Rise, men! Whence came this assault? 

FIRST SENTRY: 

Throwing himself at Meve's feet. 
Spare me, Queen! Thy judgment halt! 

SECOND SENTRY: I'll not kneel. 'Twas not my 

fault. 
MEVE: You, you, man, who stand erect, 

Say what blast of war has wrecked 

Pathway to our very feet, 

And these trophies flung to greet 

Our scarce sleep abandoned eyes? 

Speak the way of your surprise! 

127 



SECOND SENTRY: Thus it was: We two had met, 
And, half turned, were sidewise set, 
When a something with a bound 
Bore us noiseless to the ground. 
My throat in iron fingers pent 
Could no sound give. O'er me bent 
Glowed a face of sombre fire, 
Like a black cloud's lightning pyre. 
In the instant of attack 
We were pinnioned back to back. 
Gagged, trussed, ready for the spit. 
Then that face and form self-lit 
Leaped erect; cried out one word, 
Cried Cuchulain; with his sword 
Smote thy tent pole, smote with might, 
And then vanished in the night. 

MEVE: So! He visits at our tent! 
We'll return the compliment. 
All our guards, line after line, 
Circling, intricate design — 
Only serve to guide him straight, 
Safe, unto our threshold gate. 
Fergus name these heads. Red swath 
Fallen in Cuchulain's path. 

FERGUS: Bring the torches nearer. Lift 
Piece by piece this dreadful drift, 
Flung here by war's ravening wave. 
Cur mac Dalath, warrior brave. 
Thy forked beard I recognize, 
Tho' o'erdaubed with crimson dyes. 
Make thy entrance, make thy bow — 
We dismiss thee, warrior — go! 
Rise, historian of our train. 
With thy floating white hair, Raen! 
Wide thine eyes do look abroad, 
But the hands that should record 
Chariot charge and feat of sword. 
Answer not unto thy need. 
Rae the Druid does succeed; 

128 



Thou didst know the stars to read, 

Portent clouds and presage birds; 

Where are thy enchanted words? 

Could not all thy wisdom keep 

Thy head from this refuse heap? 

Whence thy pallid face does start; 

Thou thyself a portent art. 

Comes a splendor, comes a god! 
Buic mac Bainblae's head does nod, 

Weighted with its wreath of curls. 

Call to thine enamored girls; 

Call, and let the kiss of youth 
Be on thy twice ruddied mouth! 
Ha! a woman comes at call, 
Queen of this processional. 
Witch queen Col, in beauty first. 
By her spells the best or worst. 
Ha! the sweetness of thy arms; 
Ha! thy bosom's pulsing charm; 
IViiss I— but with patient care 
Painted, perfumed is thy hair 
With fresh blood, and blushes start 
On thy cheeks in equal art. 
Comes thy sister Eraise, next- 
Timid comment on thy text. 
Dream interpreter at most, 
Philtre merchant for our host. 
Thou in leaden light dotn rise 
With demurely lidded eyes! 
Move more quick this march of Death; 
Be more brief Fame's final breath; 
Thronged epitaphs must lose relief — 
Who are these two? Mighty chief 
Thou MacNois hast made one end 
With Loch More thy rival friend! 
Blent your war flags oft did fly. 
Mingled oft was your war cry. 
Now together do ye yield. 
Make retire from your last field. 

129 



Who come next? The Wizard three — 
Troigh and Dorn and Derna — ye 
With illusions not elude 
Passage to your own ghost blood! 
Last, what eldritch face is there, 
With thin clotted wisps of hair, 
Features out of human, most, 
Accuis, horror of our host. 
Whose witch scream and vulture claw 
Shook the stoutest heart of war! 
Meve the roll is read. No ken 
Of common names or unknown men. 
But leaders, actors in our host. 
Time to act if thou wouldst boast. 

MEVE: It is time and I will act. 
I a meeting, I a pact 
With Cuchulain ask and make. 
Go thou, MacRoth, at daybreak, 
Without armor, without sword, 
Riding on beyond the ford. 
Till Cuchulain, too, comes forth. 
Beg a meeting. Get his oath 
For my safety if I go 
All alone to meet my foe. 

OILIOLL: Darest thou meet him? Darest alone 
Trust the word of one unknown? 

MEVE: Trust! To-night I've had to trust 
In his mercy. But a thrust 
Of that silken curtain there. 
To his sword point I lay bare. 
I'm not safe in my own tent, 
Midst this mighty armament. 
Scarcely can more peril be 
In Cuchulain's company. 
Go, and we break up as well 
This debate unprofitable. 

Exeunt omnes. 



130 



SCENE 5. 

Cuchulain's camp. Night. Torches hum on 
the trees. GucMilain, alone, unarmed. 

CUCHULAIN: V^hat of this night shall be told? 
Tho' a devil, Meve is bold; 
Capable of aught in sooth — 
Even capable of truth — 
Abie to trust fearlessly 
In another's honesty. 
What can she gain here to-night 
But new certainty of fight? 
I no plan need. All my play 
Is delay, delay, delay. 
Till, long looked for, Ulster's horde 
Pours out to defend the ford. 
Hark, my caverned entrance hall 
To voice echoes, to footfall! 

Enter Laeg with torch, leading in Meve, who 
is. blindfolded and unarmed. 

LAEG: Queen, thy voyage ends. Thou makest port. 
Thou art in Cuchulain's fort. 
Roll the bandage from thine eyes; 
Here we dread no enemies. 

MEVE: So! Thy torches blind me more. 
This is a new nest of war, 
Lifted on the mountain swell, 
Lost in woods impregnable. 
Stay! Who is that man I see? 

LAEG: 'Tis Cuchulain! 

Exit. 

MEVE: Art thou he? 

Thou with yet a stripling's grace, 
Thou with yet a youth's fair face, 
Art Cuchulain? 

131 



CUCHULAIN: Yes, oh, Queen! 
An inhospitable scene 
Meets thy greatness. Would I could 
Turn the hollow of this wood 
To a lordly thronged hall 
With rich hangings on each wall. 
With soft carpets underfoot, 
Music, perfumes, lights to suit, 
And retainers infinite, 
So to fitly greet thy might; 
But the black trunks of these trees 
And their wind stirred draperies. 
And the flickering torches' glare, 
And this trampled earth floor bare, 
Are the best I have for thee. 
Host and servant I must be. 

MEVE: It is best so. Simply here 
Man and woman, without fear, 
Opposites of equal threat. 
In mind battle we are met. 
Frank I tell thee thou must yield. 
I must conquer on this field 
Tho' thy wits do thee intrench. 

CUCHULAIN: Wilt thou sit on this rude bench? 
I again a pardon ask. 
For the harsh, ungracious task 
Thrown on thee to seek me out; 
For the semblance of a doubt 
Shown in so blindfolding thee — 
Pardon this indignity. 
If a lonely warrior fight 
With an army in its might. 
He must fend him as he can. 

MEVE: Think not of it. Seat thee, man. 
Where I may thy features scan. 
Where I can peruse thy form! 
Art thou, then, that god of storm 
Whirling round the barrier coast 
Of my mailed and mighty host? 

132 



Art thou he who holds his way 
Blasting on thro' my array, 
Striking down with his swift sword 
Druid, Prince, or warrior-lord? 
Thou leapst from the cave of night; 
Day conceals thy circling flight; 
Numbers, weapons, charms avail 
Naught against thee. What does mall 
Thy power inexpugnable? 
What war god does in thee dwell? 
Thy lithe form with airy tread 
The dominion of thy head 
Bears aloft. From thy gray eyes 
Light like flashing steel forth flies. 
Sheathed in softness soon again; 
Thy short, curved mouth's red stain 
Looks disdain upon the world; 
And thy dark hair crisply curled 
Springs back from the helmet's weight. 
War's decision, woman's fate. 
Both in thee are concentrate. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou, a great Queen, at thy will 
Praise or mock may. Thou hast skill 
In the play of thought and v/ord. 
I but know to use my sword. 

MEVE: Mine thou must be. Hear, oh, friend! 
Thy war work must have an end. 
Stone thou art noc — art not steel; 
Human weakness thou must feel. 
Ulster undefended lies 
Save for thy great energies. 
Sickness falls on the great lords; 
Hesitate the lesser hordes; 
None comes forth to aid thee, none 
Makes the cause thou keepst his own. 
Cease, then! Conor keeps thee poor 
So thy service to secure; 
Dealing out a niggard pay. 
I am rich. Join my array 

133 



And rewards shall on thee light 

Like stars shooting down the night. 

On my westward coast there stands, 

Built as tho' by fairy hands, 

Fronting to the sunset sky, 

Dazzling down its bravery, 

A great palace. Mount and plain 

Circle it — a rich domain — 

Emerald from the seaborne mist; 

Hung with woods of amethyst, 

Deep with corn and thick with herds, 

Stag haunted, fluttering with birds; 

There shall be thy central seat. 

Thy court shall as mine be great; 

Warriors, poets, women, shall 

With thee hold high festival. 

All thy labor over, sink 

In such throned ease. Pause and think! 

CUCHULAIN: That throne were no seat of ease; 
For unto me from the seas 
Floating in, memorial 
Voices of the dead would call: 
"Traitor!" would the ghost cries com.e, 
"Where is Ulster? Where thy home?" 
On the banquet mirth would rise 
Mailed shapes with indignant eyes— 
They would rise up in eclipse, 
They would smite me on the lips, 
"Coward, recreant, when we died 
Thou wast absent from our side!" 
And the woman in my bed 
On a sudden would seem dead. 
Seem the corpse of some pure maid 
Lost because I did not aid. 
No, oh. Queen, too dearly bought 
Such domain and such a court. 

MEVE: Be my son, Cuchulain. Thou 

Wearest the king mark on thy brow. 
Thou art noble. Thou shouldst rule 
O'er this world of knave and fool. 

134 



Sweet my daughter Finnabra; 

Thou art dark as she is fair, 

And your matched motions are 

Like a red and purple star, 

Double in the heights above, 

Differing for delight of love. 

In' her soft eyes sapphire wave, 

Thy gray flashes quenched shall lave, 

In her rounded arms and breast. 

Thy lithe body shall find rest. 

Thou art darting energy. 

All repose and softness she. 

Ye shall wed and ye shall reign 

Over Erin's broad domain. 

Aye, your children's children shall 

Breed new dynasties for all. 

All the universal earth. 

Take the place becomes thy worth! 

CUCHULAIN: Fair the bride and rich the prize 
Thou dost picture to my eyes, 
Leaps my blood tumultuously, 
But no bride must deck for me. 
Lonely must my watch fire burn 
On the heights men half discern. 
As I slowly wheel and turn 
Round each sacred slope and hill. 
Guarding all the land from ill; 
Wild my life and gay and free, 
But no bride can company me. 
Lonely must my pennon wave 
O'er the blood feast of the brave. 
O'er the tumult tide of war, 
Trampling steed and charging car, 
When my foes shall shattered be. 
But no bride must weep for me. 
Lonely must my vessel's prow 
Ocean furrow like a plow, 
Pointed to the icy North, 
Pointed where the seas bring forth 

135 



Golden islands; where are furled 
All the sunsets of the world; 
New, strange visions I shall see, 
But no bride must wait for me. 
Lonely must my mind make flight 
In its vigils of the night 
To the star strewn fields of space, 
Beckoned by the Godhead's face, 
Questioning at the farthest gate, 
So to learn man's place and fate. 
Pierce thro' Death's antiquity. 
But no bride must watch for me. 
If thro' all I win me clear — 
Guardian, warrior, pioneer, 
Dreamer — if deserved renown 
Come my deeds and days to crown — 
Duty done and my hands free. 
Then a bride may welcome me. 
MEVE: Aye, the stars shall make thee room. 
Fool, thou wakest a sorry doom, 
Dreaming to find gods again 
'Mid the ranks of common men. 
Knowest thou not that mortals hate 
All that's glorious, good or great? 
Myriads 'gainst thee shall combine; 
Thou a byeword and a sign 
Shall be to men's mockery — stung. 
Stabbed by woman's poison tongue. 
For thy very virtues cursed, 
All thy best declared the worst. 
And thy heel behind thee bit, 
By those thou dost benefit; 
Wouldbe rivals hiss thee down, 
And the craven and the clown 
Shall on thy foundations build; 
It is woe that thou hast willed. 
Ha! I see thee gray and old. 
Weary, sick, a-hungered, cold. 
By thy mighty vigils worn 
To a hollow thing of scorn, 

136 



Gone a-begging thro' the realm 
Thou keptst from Its overwhelm! 
Ha! I see thy radiant helm 
Turned to a receptacle 
For food broken, mixed pellmell! 
Ha! I see thy blazing sword 
To a staff turned to afford 
Succor to thy faltering limbs! 
Such the pay that greatness wins. 
Learn the wisdom, man, of life. 
Snatch thine own out of the strife; 
Glut thine appetites and lust; 
Seize the glorious gauds of dust; 
Take whate'er thy being craves; 
Make thy fellow-men thy slaves; 
Make thy wayward will their law; 
Admiration, love and awe 
Then shall wait upon thy days, 
And renown shall add its blaze. 

CUCHULAIN: Reader of the human heart, 
Darkener of man's life thou art. 
Let the evil thou dreamst come. 
My soul leaves not its high home. 
I go on, as I began, 
Careless of reward from man, 
Careless of my death won dirge. 
Hast thou more or worse to urge? 
Pardon, then, if I arise. 
From the Dawn Night's chariot flies. 

MEVE: Thou art marble, adamant! 
Cannot flattery, bribe or taunt 
Move thee from thy destined path? 
I am woman. Vain my wrath. 
Lo, before thy feet, I fling! 
The crowned daughter of a King 
Begs for respite, begs for peace. 
Let thy mighty slaughterings cease. 
All my army, 'neath my hand 
Mutinously must disband, 

137 



If I take no treaty back, 

If thou stand'st still on our track. 

Move a little from thy pride, 

Move a little to one side. 

Let a woman have her will. 

Let her hold dominion still. 

I will rise not from my knees, 

Warrior, till thou grant surcease. 

CUCHULAIN: This, oh, Meve, I grant to thee: 
Out of all thy soldiery 
Let each day one warrior-lord 
Fight against me at the ford. 
But thou must in camp hold fast 
While this truce of battle last. 

MEVE: Done! Unmoved be my array. 
Better one man fall by day 
Than a hundred die at night. 
Strange if thou, fight after fight, 
With fresh men shall win each day. 
Ten, a dozen thou mayst slay, 
But the next one wins at length. 
Thou no fount hast of new strength; 
Man or man still coming on 
In the end must wear thee down. 
I accept, and I depart. 
Blind this falcon for its start. 

CUCHULAIN: No, our truce is made. Go forth! 
Thy word is as mine in worth. 
Thou hast trusted me to-night; 
I in honor must requite. 
Take the secret of my track, 
Go with eyes unbandaged back! 

MEVE: Blind my eyes and bind my hands! 
What man a woman understands. 
Thou hast crushed me to the earth. 
Bowed a thing of royal birth, 
Thou must pay for this in blood. 
Could I know thy path, I would 

138 



Neither truce or pact regard; 

But my warriors, iiitlierward, 

Send to tal<e thee in thy den — 

Torture, death, dishonor, then. 
CUCHULAIN: As thou wilt, fair enemy! 

Thou Shalt hooded backward fly. 

Laboring with one broken wing, 

He blindfolds her and ties one hand behind 
her. 

Thou Shalt have good piloting — 

Laeg, Laeg, forth my man! 
Enter Laeg with torch. 

Guide to where her voyage began, 

Safely guide this warrior queen! 
MEVE: So Cuchulain, thou hast been 

Victor yet. But soon or late 

Thou Shalt dread a woman's hate. 
CUCHULAIN: Man not dread I and much less 

Fear I woman's loveliness. 
MEVE: We shall meet again. I go! 
CUCHULAIN: Farewell! Send my daily foe. 
Exit Meve and Laeg. 



SCENE 6. 

Meve's tent. Finnahra, richly dressed, seated 
on a raised throne. Owen Mor at her feet on 
the dais. 
FINNABRA: Oh, the joy to see thy face! 
Oh, the horror of this place; 
Glinting armor, slanting spears. 
Trumpet calls within our ears, 
139 



stain and smell and feel of blood; 

Love is in the shambles stood; 

Sick at heart and terrified, 

Drooping he has almost died. 
OWEN MOR: Trembler wert thou once with me; 

Yet, dissembler, thou wouldst be 

Rather in yon Ulster wood. 

Rather with my cloak for hood, 

In my arms thou saidst did hurt 

Than here with an army girt. 
FINNABRA: What a wild and daring guess — 

Owen, yes and yes and yes. 

Ah, that lifetime of a night! 

Blackest shadow, whitest light, 

Silence of the sculptured trees. 

And our heart's mad ecstacies. 

Since, no music is in tune; 

Since, there has not been a moon. 

OWEN MOR: Thou the moon art, Earth's delight; 

Rising in thy hallowed light, 

Rounded orb of mellow white; 

Flooding this close cinctured tent 

Till it seems a continent; 

Till below thee mountain peaks 

Lift to touch thy damask cheeks; 

Forests thrilled in magic charm 

Still all sounds might thee alarm; 

Waters trembling, waveless, climb. 

Dragging upward from their slime; 

And my blood in mounting tide 

Lifts me here unto thy side. 

Till I fold thee in eclipse. 

Darkening thy illumined lips. 
FINNABRA: Ah, the moon rules the brainsick. 

Art thou, love, then, lunatic? 

I sink happy in thy hold. 

All my restlessness controlled. 

What a world of weary days, 

Blanks of fortune's lotteries, 

140 



Has been since I was alive? 

Habit stronger than a gyve 

Kept me in my duties all; 

I walked, talked, mechanical; 

Something that seemed Finnabra 

Woke, dressed, spoke her parents fair; 

Played at play with other girls; 

Saw or seemed to see the churls 

Who dared half to mimic thee. 

Empty shell this! I was free. 

I was with thee in thy nest 

On the rugged mountain crest; 

And the dull dream of my state. 

Things of smoke that men think great, 

Passed unseen before my eyes 

Vivid with realities. 

Now my day dawns — the loosed light 

That my heart held thro' the night. 
OWEN MOR: Yet, oh, lady, listen. Thou 

A soft flower art, that till now 
Knew not that the heaven had storms. 
Knew not earth's more awful forms. 
In thy guarded, gardened place. 
Reared the royalest of thy race, 
Thou satst crowned, delicate; 
And the comrades of thy state, 
All the things of gentle bloom. 
Bowed their censers, brought perfume. 
Thou from this must step aside, 
Thou must be an outlaw's bride. 
Conor hates me. Conor whom 
Succored I in days of doom. 
I 'gainst Fergus would not fight. 
And except for sudden flight, 
I had died by Conor's hand. 
Wild my life and rude my band; 
Oh the outskirts of the land. 
Thro' the hanging hills I pass; 
Mountain, moorland and morass 

141 



These my forts. My camp fires blaze 
Hardly twice within one place. 
Can thy soft feet climb the rock? 
Where is born the thunder shock 
Cans't thou live? Canst laugh at scars 
Of my fierce and frequent wars? 
Canst sleep curtained by the stars? 
Come, then. Erin all in arms 
Shall not know again thy charms. 

FINNABRA: But, my Owen, thou art here. 
Why not add thy sword and spear, 
Matchless, to this marching host? 
Thou Shalt be our army's boast, 
Prince and warrior paramount. 
Honors from Honor's very fount 
Shall pour on thee all their pride; 
And beside thee I may ride 
Heralded thy consort-bride. 
Conor watching from his walls, 
When the cloud of battle falls, 
Shall see 'mid the ranks of war, 
Blazing like the folding star. 
The poor exile whom he thought 
Lost to lustre and report 
'Mid his hill heights and his crags 
In the eagle's bed or stag's. 
Conor captured in his court 
Shall before us twain be brought, 
Shall before thee bend and make 
Craven vows for his life's sake. 

OWEN MOR: Ha! what hissing word is this 
From the mouth my mouth did kiss? 
Thou who loved me, love my fame! 
Wouldst thou brand my brow with shame, 
Send me outcast thro' the earth 
Traitor to my place of birth? 
In the feud that I have waged 
But one family is engaged; 
If I win or Conor wins 
Ail but ends as it begins, 

142 



Ulster still has its own Prince. 

But unto a foreign brood 

To unbar my solitude; 

Let the alien and the foe 

In to trample vales I know 

Down to the least blade of grass; 

Guide the invader to the hearth 

Where my eyes first oped on earth; 

Give up unto war's harass 

Men one with me, blood and bone, 

Mother's kin unto mine own; 

Never! Ha, thou art not she 

Loyal to my loyalty — 

Some false thing — some wraith of storm 

Does thy glorious face deform 

Making thee menacing. Wake! Again 

Be honor's lamp for erring men. 
FINNABRA: True! It is true! My mother — I 

Spake but her words unknowingly. 

Oh, thou dost talk of tempests, cold, 

Bolts of the lightning, thunders rolled 

About thy mountain hermitage; 

Naught are these to my mother's rage. 

Save me from her. Thine own path choose. 

Play thy great part as true men use. 

Country and kin I take from thee. 

A woman's treason is to be 

But treacherous to her chosen mate. 

Thou art my home, my land, my state. 
OWEN MOR: Fly with me, then. Words turn to 
deeds. 

The instant act alone succeeds. 

Careless the guard is thro' the camp 

Men sleep and eat and horses champ 

Close by the entrance of the tent. 

Key to worse wards than here are bent, 

My sword moves restless by my side. 

Surprise wins all. Swift, swift, my bride. 

Come! Ere our purpose shall be known 

My mountains their new queen shall own. 

143 



FINNABRA: I am ready. I will share thy fate. 

The curtains at the entrance of the tent open 
and Meve enters, 

OWEN MOR (Aside): Thy mother. So! It is too 
late. 

To-night I'll win thee. Watch and wait! 
MEVE: Well, my children, I have given 

You an hour stolen from Heaven — 

Let the hawk in to my dove. 

Count me, then, a friend to Love. 

Tumult waves on ocean ride, 

But they move on with the tide; 

Storms break on the height of noon, 

But air answers to the moon; 

So life's motions and effects, 

Builded wreaths and broken wrecks, 

On the surface rise and fall, 

But Love rules beneath them all. 

OWEN MOR: Gracious Lady, mighty Queen, 
Thou Love's truest friend hast been, 
Thus thy caged dove giving a large, 
Trusting her unto the charge 
Of an outlaw and a foe. 
Choosest thou that we should go 
Forth together. Or must I 
Leave her till war's tumults die 
Till this great contention ends? 

MEVE: Why, oh, Owen, we are friends. 

There thy foes lie — hostile hands. 

Conor's court and Conor's bands. 

Go you may, but certain must 

'Mid our mutual foeman thrust; 

Thou must strike our worst foe dead. 

Bring me here Cuchulain's head; 

Then this girl is thine for aye — 

Earn your wages, take your pay. 
OWEN MOR: This I will not. 'Gainst my lord 

I may raise a rebel sword; 

144 



'Gainst my country, 'gainst my home, 
'Gainst the loyal ghosts that come 
From the great graves of the Past, 
'Gainst my own blood strewn broadcast, 
Bourgeoning forth in man and maid. 
Tree, flower, heather and grass blade, 
I will strike no single blow. 
Thus my answer — and I go. 

MEVE: 

Turning on Finiiahra in fury. 

Thou, thou piece of painted froth. 

Foam wreath that the waves bring forth. 

Thing of milk made or moonbeams. 

Heir of dynasties of dreams. 

Is this all the power thou hast? 

Thy limbs are of female cast, 

Womanlike the aureole 

Round about thy temples — sole 

Crown a girl needs for her head, 

And thy lips are woman red; 

Couidst not thou with all these charms, 

Couldst not with thy rounded arms. 

Fire a man's swift blazing blood 

Mould a lover to thy mood? 

Go back to thy dolls and toys, 

To thy kissing games with boys; 

Go. No heir thou to a throne 

Earthquake based and tumult blown. 

FINNABRA: i will go not— till I see 
Owen sent hence, safe and free. 

OWEN MOR: Fear not, love! My life's too dear. 
On her safeguard I am here. 
She dares not to break her word. 
Farewell, sweet. Our day deferred 
Soon will burst this bond of night, 
Soon will scatter foes in flight. 
Madam, from your tent I turn. 
Go I will, but will return. 

145 



As he speaks the curtains of the tent are 
softly put aside and three men enter and throw 
themselves upon him. He is disarmed and 
hound in a moment. 

MEVE: Two Cuchulain's shall not be! 
Where thou goest rests with me. 
Soon thou wilt be out of breath. 

FINNABRa: Oh, not death, my mother — death! 

She falls fainting at Meve's feet. 

MEVE: Take that man and guard him well, 
Your lives on it. 

Exeunt Owen Mor and the guard. 

The oracle, 

Ambiguous, burns in my mind. 

Shall I passage make or find? 

Each tool that I rely upon 

Turns in my hand. Is my hard won 

Lore of the human heart at fault? 

No; that is safe against assault. 

Come, firmness make me failure proof! 

I must drive on, not doubt aloof. 

Ha! this sweet wreck here at my feet 

I must lift up. Her heart does beat! 

Where got she such a tender thing, 

More soft even than its covering? 

Come, child. I'll put thee to thy bed — 

Not he whose place is with the dead. 



146 



SCENE 7. 

Ferdiad's tent. Seated at l)anquet in splen- 
did attire are the leaders of Meve's host, Fer- 
gus, Ferdiad, Magach, Niall and others. With 
them Donal Roe, bard and seer. 

DONAL ROE: Splendor on thy forehead falls, 

Herol Honor by thee calls, 

Beckoning the beyond of Fame, 

Till that bannered flood of flame 

Vibrates to thy light and name, 

And, reverberant and a-roar, 

Rushes, blazing, on once more. 
NIALL: Thou art poet, thou art seer; 

Ferdlad's fortune make more clear. 
DONAL ROE: No! the omens I refuse. 

I no seer sight will use. 

On the threshold, he, of Fate 

Stands. What lies beyond that gate 

I will search not nor avow. 

As well from the mountain brow 

Strip the blue or crimson cloud; 

As well from youth's presence proud 

Strip the flesh blooms that enwreathe 

The gaunt skeleton beneath; 

As on Ferdiad's hour of praise 

Grim to-morrow's spectre raise. 
FERDIAD: And I must forbid it, too. 

It can change not what's to do. 

If good come, why let it be 

Virgin of all prophecy. 

If evil waits — the death mist black, 

Still I may not turn me back. 
FERGUS: Mighty warriors, all our host 

Does thy matchless puissance boast; 

Scathach's pupil, thou'rt confessed 

Near Cuchulain at his best. 

Fresh thou art from plume to spur — 

Tired that nation challenger. 

147 



For twelve days with spear and sword 

He has kept the blood stained ford; 

Twelve great chiefs of Erin's men 

Heard his war cry ring o'er them; 

While as at a theatre 

Our whole host with hope and fear 

Thrilled from crescent horn to horn. 

Daily seems he newly born — 

Yet we know him wounded. Torn 

By sword, spear point thro' and thro'; 

Calatin and his damned crew 

On Cuchulain's every part 

Have wrought with their deadly art. 

He is only flesh and blood. 

Mighty foes has he withstood. 

Thou his rival who hast been, 

Hast an even chance to win. 

FERDIAD: Would he were as once, again 
Sole lord of the battle plain, 
Thunderer moving the cloud war, 
Sun that puts out every star, 
Then my victory or defeat 
Were more tolerably great. 
But I know him. Fire and steel! 
Wounds, weariness he does not feel. 
Beat to earth, upright he springs. 
Wheeling in more rapid rings. 
All his strength lost, he has still 
Treasures of self lessoned skill. 
I the issue not forecast — 
I will fight unto the last. 

MAGACH: Why do we in idle prate. 
On Cuchulain's motives wait? 
I say let us break the truce; 
Let this leashed in army loose; 
Pour on Ulster all our force; 
Let our pent up wrath have course. 

NIALL: Why we did so. Day on day 

Our slanting banners took that way; 

148 



But he hung about, aloof. 
We the sheep were, he the wolf; 
He the hawk was, we were doves. 
Mountain passes, valleys, groves. 
Left we thick with slaughtered men; 
Plain the path for us again. 
Round the host, oh, Magach, you 
Your shield of protection drew. 
But he burst the slight fence thro', 
Leaving a long, reddened path; — 
And none heard then of your wrath. 

FERDIAD: Nay, my friends, mar not our feast 
With what may be or has ceased. 
Leave the question of my doom 
Unawakened in Fate's womb. 
Turn we to more festal themes. 
Torchlight gorgeous o'er us streams. 
Glows each warrior's rich attire, 
Blazes up the wine cup's fire; 
And I doubt not in each heart 
Flames more rich and splendid start, 
Kindled by some woman's face. 
Donal, raise thou woman's praise. 

DONAL ROE: Ah, the sweet, superior race! 
When the gods first looked on earth. 
Hideous in its hour of birth. 
Rough, seamed, shapeless, they drew back; 
What use was that rock realm black? 
But they made a sex of slaves, 
Set them in earth's vales and caves, 
So to tame earth, make it meet 
For the gods' descending feet. 
But from their rich halls of ease 
The relenting goddesses 
Saw the heroic, laboring men. 
Pity, admiration then. 
Moved them. Than the idle gods 
Mightier seemed these kin of clods. 

149 



Down they stooped unto the earth, 
Down to man's unhappy hearth, 
Wearing still heaven's diadem, 
Bringing Paradise with them; 
And still men must moil and toil, 
Level rocks and break the soil, 
Tame the wild beasts, tame the winds, 
Clash in fight with equal minds; 
But a woman need but raise 
The sweet vision of her face. 
And her high descent we trace! 

FERDIAD: Drink, oh, heroes, drink to Her, 
Each heart does encharacter. 

NIALL: Unto my betrothed this vj'mel 

MAGACH: And I drain this cup to mine! 

FERDIAD: By me, too. Love's pledge is quaffed! 
But a black, foreboding draught 
Mingles in my golden cup. 

FERGUS: Warriors, arise! The feast break up. 
Love's supremacy declare, 
His pledge no rival has nor heir. 
To our posts, or to our beds! 
Solemn midnight slowly treads 
Thro' the camp. What's left of night 
Ferdiad needs to garb for fight. 

They all rise. 
Great Cuchulain's rival-twin, 
I must hope that thou wilt win, 
Tho' my friendship does divide. 
Fighting half on either side. 

NIALL: Go, and come back crowned with fame. 
Foremost man of Irish name! 

MAGACH: Would the strength of my right arm 
Thee could aid and keep from harm! 

DONAL ROE: Erin's champion, Erin's pride. 
Glory greets thee as a bride. 
Or above thy grassy keep 
Leans, a statue that can weep. 

150 



They slowly go out and Ferdiad is left alone. 
FERDIAD: Loyal comrades and false friends 
Pass. The wordy prologue ends, 
And the act is mine alone. 
Yet it may be I am gone 
But your herald, that my breath 
In the throne chamber of death, 
Tells the ambassadors who come. 
Ah, not for you I assume 
Armor, and the event abide 
Hardly to be put aside. 
Well I know my sword should blaze, 
Threatening these fellows of my days; 
Well I know I should stand forth 
With Cuchulain, battle wroth. 
In his joust unparalleled 
Tourney against mankind held. 
He the right path has pursued 
Singly 'gainst a multitude. 
So to stand and so to come. 
Shield and bulwark of his home, 
Saviour of the woman throng. 
Theme forever for all song. 
I was bred with him, and schooled 
In the same house, woman ruled; 
Practiced the same arms and arts. 
Oft the beating of our hearts 
Was one throbbing, as we lay 
Overwearied with a day 
In the long chase of the deer; 
Oft one fountain mirrored clear 
Both our faces stooping there 
After fferce fight with the foe; 
Oft his body stopped a blow 
Aimed at my head or limb; 
Oft mine has been shield to him; 
And at night, oft, when we saw 
Stars from the horizon draw, 
Sweeping in one mighty clan 
To their high meridian, 
151 



Then descending with ranks dressed 

To their day sleep in the West, 

Swore we, that we, too, distinct, 

Indissoiuabiy linked, 

Would sweep life thro' in like mood, 

Leaving fame of brotherhood. 

But another power ordains 

Other issue. Love unchains 

Hatred in this world of ours. 

One thought every thought devours. 

One fair face dominion has 

Over everything that was. 

Thou hast robbed me of my best, 

Finnabra — and save the test 

Of all past experience fails. 

Of my star whose wan light pales 

By Cuchulain's orb of strife, 

Thou hast robbed me of my life. 

The curtains of the tent are draicn aside and 
enter the veiled figure of Finnahra, accompan- 
ied by Owen Mor. 

How! What strangers do intrude 
On my hour of solitude? 

Finnabra lifts her veil and stands before him. 

Finnabra, my betrothed bride. 
Wandering at night so companied! 

OWEN MOR: Sir, I greet you. Suppliants we — 

Suppliants for sanctuary; 
Bold perchance beyond belief. 
Owen Mor, the Ulster chief, 
I. This girl with me, downcast, 
Is my wife a whole year past. 
On Meve's safeguard to the camp 
Came I, moth led to this lamp. 
But the queen proposed this pact: 
In return for traitorous act, 
Baseness blasting all my life. 
She would yield me up my wife. 

152 



I refused; was overborne, 
Bound, and left to wait the morn 
Rising on my scene of death, 
Meve's word a forgotten breath. 
But the Queen's deceit deceived 
By this girl was. As bereaved, 
Broken, to her bed she kept 
Until all about her slept. 
Slipped she out then, found my ward, 
Bribed with gems and gold my guard; 
Freed me. But the hostile tents 
Thick wer-i round us. Night intense 
Hid direction; was no road; 
Here and there the firelight showed 
Slanting shadows of the spears; 
Revel's noise came to our ears 
With but canvass in between; 
Moving sentries near us seen, 
Cried to others circling far. 
Alone, I might elect for war, 
Seize some weapon, make my way 
Thro' the interminable array; 
But this lady! Then It was 
Spake she of your courteousness, 
Of her forced pledge unto you; 
Noblest of the noble, true 
To the death she deemed you^ Thus 
Came we hither. Unto us 
Give, if so your mind shall shape. 
Succor, rescue and escape. 

FERDIAD: Finnabra, is this the truth? 
Art thou mated to this youth? 

FINNABRA: Ferdiad, yes! False am I not. 
But my mother's dreadful plot 
Must me darken in your eyes; 
You must hate me, must despise. 

FERDIAD: Dost thou love him? 

FINNABRA: Let time show! 
I no other master know. 

153 



Think! He came before thy tread 
Thro' my dream world echoed. 
Ere thou Love's arms didst assume, 
O'er Love's battle waved his plume. 
He had won me. I had died 
Ere even thou hadst made me bride. 

FERDIAD: Ha! a blank comes in my eyes! 
Empties all earth's forgeries. 
What? I stagger! Touch me not. 
A girl's sickness shall not blot 
So a man's mind, tho' a fool. 
Give me time my thoughts to school. 
Now the ironic lightnings gleam, 
Actor in an insane dream 
Seem I. I am pledged, am willed, 
Or to kill or to be killed 
By the brother of my heart; 
And for you. Nay, do not start, 
'Tis no fault of yours I move. 
Made a recreant by my love; 
While thou dotest on him, more true 
Who gave Honor its right due; 
Gave it precedence of Love. 
Well, no more! My wit's arove, 
'Gin to cluster in their nest. 
How, sir, can I serve you best? 

OWEN MOR: Thanks were idle. We desire 
Flight ere wakes Meve's deadly ire; 
Some disguise to win us thro' 
The camp's scrutiny. And If you 
Out of your great nobleness 
Could accompany us thro' the press 
Safety were assurred, I think. 

FERDIAD. Well, sir, why not? I can drink 
The bitterest cup with a fair face; 
I will help on my disgrace. 
Think not thou hast conquered; 
I'm a man as good as dead. 

164 



Cuchulain's sword would in due course 
Work, were it needed, her divorce. 
Come! I will get you cloaks and arms 
And guide you past all hostile harms. 

OWEN MOR: Hark! Here's a rout comes toward this 
place. 

FERDIAD: Stand fast! And, Madam, veil your face. 

A noise is heard ivithout, and Magach and 
Niall, with their retinues, hurst into the tent in 
drunken revelry. 

MAGACH: Ha, old boy, a parting cup! 
In the stirrup you are up, 
And you ride to the unknown. 
Ha, I'm glad you ride alone! 
Pour for Ferdiad, boy, pour wine. 

NIALL: 'Tis a nightcap, Ferdiad mine. 
He, he, he! You'd best drink deep. 
None can tell how long you sleep. 

MAGACH: Ho, the sinner! Niall, look! 
Here's no Druid with his book. 
Priest with melancholy face. 
But a petticoat in place. 
Cluck! Old boy, 1 like your taste; 
Your last moments you'll not waste. 

FERDIAD: Hands off, Magach, and begone! 

MAGACH: Not till I this witch have known. 

OWEN MOR: Back! This lady is my wife. 

MAGACH: Strange place for her, on my life. 
Who are you? Your dress puts forth 
You're of Ulster — of the North. 
Seize him, men, he is a spy! 

Several of Magach's retainers seize and hold 
Owen. Magach puts his arm around Finnal)ra. 

155 



One look, sweetheart, from your eye. 
One touch of your rosy lips. 
How you struggle! Pass eclipse! 

Tears her veil from her face. 

Finnabra, by all that's foul! 

NIALL: My love 'neath that dusky cowl? 

MAGACH: Thou, thou night maurauding thief, 
Garbed as an Ulster chief, 
Claimest my promised bride for wife? 
Pay for your twin shames with life! 

Draws his sword, and rushing on Owen Mir 
strikes him dead. Niall also draws his sword, 
1)ut Ferdiad wrests it from him. 

FERDIAD: On my threshold, thou tusked brute. 
Wilt thou my guest execute? 
Stand alone, if not afraid! 

MAGACH: Niall, Munster, to my aid. 

Ferdiad springs upon him, J)ut Niall and the 
rest close in and Ferdiad falls, pierced 'by many 
wounds. Finnabra a little apart sinks silently 
to the ground. 

MAGACH: Ho! Cuchulain need not dread 
Erin's champion. Where is fled 
Finnabra? At sight of blood, 
Fainted, or my furious mood! 
Wake, thou frail work of snow! 
Wake, thy future husband know! 

NiALL: Thou her husband! Meve with oath 
Did to me the girl betroth. 
She is mine and mine alone. 
I am heir to Connaught's throne. 

MAGACH: What! Dost thou my right dispute? 
Here decide it, foot to foot. 
O'er the body of our prize. 
Follow thou where Ferdiad flies. 

156 



NIALL: Leinster, Leinster, to my side! 

MAGACH: Munster, be your swords well plied. 

They fight, and their retinues in inextricable 
confusion fight around them. 

Enter Fergus. 

FERGUS: What's this brawl and battle cry? 
Down with your weapons or ye die! 
The leaders of the host at odds! 
Curse our doomed cause ye battle gods! 
So, ye are stilled. Whose course is run — 
What! Owen Mor, my sister's son? 
And Ferdiad, lying here fordone, 
Unneeding now Cuchulain's stroke. 
Ha! in this tent Fate's bolt has broke. 
Now, to what madness did ye yield. 
Making this tent a battlefield. 

NIALL: The quarrel was for Finnabra 
Whom we with Ferdiad found here. 
And with that Ulster chief, your kin; 
Magach dispatched him. Then struck in 
Ferdiad and died. Then Magach laid 
Claim to the girl whom Meve's oaths made 
Mine only. And we fell to it 
O'er Finnabra in her fainting fit. 

FERGUS: How, Finnabra? Why the girl is dead! 
Out of her mouth a torrent red 
Has gushed up from her broken heart. 
Love, shame, grief, horror— all had part 
In this swift passage to the grave. 
Well, you must answer it to Meve. 

Enter Meve and Oilioll with attendants. 

MEVE: What tumult noise assaults our ear? 

FERGUS: Come, Meve, unhappy Queen, look here! 
See the one bud upon thy stem, 
The sole heir of thy diadem 

157 



Lies broken, shaken to the earth. 
Can thy plots bring thee a new birth? 

MEVE: My daughter — white — cold — silent — dead! 
Why she but now was on her bed! 
How came she here? Can it be life's guest 
Has fled? There's warmth yet in his nest. 
Ah, no; her heart is stilled! Ye gods 
That strike with unrelenting rods, 
Give me my treasure back. Restore 
The hope of all my life once more. 
Ha! her glazed eyes glare at me! They 
Stab and will stab my heart for aye! 

FERGUS: Now look around thee, Queen. Behold 
Thy champion for to-morrow rolled 
In blood and dust in his own tent! 
And see this picture, excellent — 
A youth, my kin, 'mid thy affairs 
Drawn, how, I knew not. See he wears 
The red badge that thy service yields. 
These are thy trophies. Such thy fields. 

MEVE: Better were swift stroke of thy sword 
Than such unseasonable word. 
Oh, Fergus, Fergus, pity me! 
Enough! I rise! Let the past be! 
There, lift the body of my child. 
Lift Erin's lily undefiled, 
Ana bear her gently to my tent! 
Owen and Ferdiad, be content! 
For you, ye hell hounds of my host, 
Magach and Niall, live to boast! 
Back to your kennels, or my wrath 
Shall loose and sweep you from my path. 
Fergus, farewell! Be chief to-night 
And keep the camp from further fright. 

Her servants hear the hody of Finnabra away 
and Meve and Oilioll follow. 
158 



FERGUS: Magnificently with her dead 
She marches with unshaken tread. 
Pest on her! It is orthodox. 
If a woman lead war's flocks, 
Death, confusion, ruin must 
In amid the armed ranks thrust. 



SCENE 8. 

Meve's tent. The body of Finnahra lies on a 
Mer at one side. Meve, alone, strides up and 
down the place. 
MEVE: Night of horror! 'Neath my feet 

Earth, unstable, does retreat. 

I am sliding. For support 

Twigs I clutch that break off short. 

Down, and far and fast I fall. 

Is this Meve imperial? 

Like a mighty town I stood. 

Walled and safe in plenitude; 

But my flesh walls grow infirm, 

Aged before their natural term; 

And within is traitor Doubt 

And cheated Love, almost starved out. 

O'er tfis mob I seemed to be 

Even throned with destiny; 

Men and women felt my thrill 

Made and moulded at my will; 

But my puppets now are broke. 

My woven web with one fell stroke 

Falls about me. I shall be 

A byword and a mockery. 

That is nothing. I still stand 

A lonely figure of command. 

None can match my will and strength; 

But I grow to see at length 
159 



That the world broad field is set 

As a gaming board, whereat, 

With what skill and thought he may. 

The shrewd gamester plots his play; 

Till Chance, thrusting in by stealth, 

Sweeps away the man's whole wealth. 

All my hoard is on this bier. 

Tigress cub, thou liest here. 

While thy dam howls on the height, 

Vengeance crying in the night; 

Stalking, then, with silent strides 

The careless hunter where he rides! 

But who is he? Whom must I 

For thy death stroke doom to die? 

Not those wretches whom mischance 

Brought with thee into death's dance! 

Too ignoble they to hate; 

Victim thou of one more great. 

He it is who halted has 

IVty adventure. Brought to pass 

That my army budges not; 

Forced me to ignoble plot 

Thus recoiled on my own head. 

He has struck my daughter dead. 

But for thee, Cuchulain, I 

Ulster had won easily. 

Yes, to-night had feasting been 

In Emania, Ulster's Queen; 

Finnabra there by my side. 

Royal in her beauty's pride, 

And upon her streaming down 

The light of a double crown. 

Long to reach thee I have tried. 

Thou hast baffled me, defied; 

And to-morrow, to my shame, 

At the ford thou callest the name 

Of a champion wrapped in night. 

None will meet thee; none will fight. 

Surely thou must die! But how? 

Oh, my heart bursts in me now. 

160 



Enter Mac Roth. 
How darest enter on my grief? 
MAC ROTH: A letter, brought by a young chief. 
MEVE: Give it! Go! I know the hand. 

Exit Mac Roth. 

Reads : 

"iVIeve from Scathach. To thy land 
Goes this youth, my daughter's son, 
Conloach! On earth is but one 
Matches him in battle might, 
Great Cuchulain! 'Tis but right, 
For Cuchulain is his sire. 
Equal is their fount of fire. 
But the son his father's name 
Knows not, and the sire the same. 
Left Cuchulain the babe here 
With my daughter, to uprear 
As a warrior, and a ring 
Left he, whose strange glittering 
Name and birthright should avow. 
Take the youth; help, use him thou. 
Launch him on the battle track — 
I no more can hold him back." 
Won! The game is won at last! 
Thou my empty quiver hast 
Filled, oh, Scathach! What, the son 
Knows no father, and his own 
Flesh the father cannot tell? 
They shall know each other well. 
Ho, Mac Roth! 

Re-enter Mac Roth. 
This chief to me! 

Exit Mac Roth. 
Wiles of woman serpentry 
Winding motions on me write. 
Fill my eyes with charmed light, 
Mask the venom of my tooth 
ici 



With a tongue of horrid truth! 

With Cuchulain I before 

Failed, and failed with Owen Mor; 

But a deadlier act I play, 

And this youth is easier prey. 

Enter Gonloach. 

Prince from Scathach's circle brave 
Welcome to the camp of Meve. 

CONLOACH: Homage to thee, mighty Queen. 

MEVE: Surely thou no war hast known; 
Smooth thy face, thy rich hair blown 
Round thy temples hardly shows 
Dent of helmet pressing close. 
Youth's fresh image glittering, 
Leapest thou in the warrior's ring! 

CONLOACIH: Schooled, trained am I. Practiced, too, 
Somewhat. Says not Scathach so? 

MEVE: She reports thee as not worst 
Than war's second, where the first 
Is Cuchulain. 

CONLOACH: Ha, that name 

Fires me for an equal fame! 

MEVE: Darest thou meet him? Thro' thy soul 
Does the flame of glory roll? 

CONLOACH: It outburns the day. In dreams 
Still before my vision streams 
A crowned crowd — a mob of Kings, 
Warriors. And forever rings 
On my sole and inward sense 
Voices of thrilling eloquence: — 
"With these splendors take thy place 
In the vanguard of thy race; 
Be thou one whose single name 
Is a land's eternal fame; 
Prophesied by Druid's tongue. 
Endlessly by poets sung." 

162 



MEVE: Conloach, Conloach, thou dost move 
Pride as of a mother's love 
In me. I will loose thee forth 
Like an eagle, flashing wroth 
From his sun shared throne of air 
On a carrion vulture, where 
Preys he on my noble dead. 
Thou Shalt strike Cuchulain dead. 

CONLOACH: Is he enemy of thine? 

MEVE: Enemy of all divine; 

Night marauder! Murder chief. 
Filching glory like a thief; 
Ambusher of men by night; 
Fighting as it were in flight; 
Luring chase on by his wiles, 
Till upon the straggling files 
Swoops he from some vantage rise; 
Matchless master of surprise; 
Practicer of witchcraft rites 
When he singly meets my knights; 
Overcoming them by charms — 
Rather than by might of arms — 
Such Cuchulain. Looms he fell 
From his cloud impentrable, 
And Fear stalks amid my tents; 
Men let drop war's implements, 
Huddling wide-eyed and aghast 
Till the daily death is past. 
None dares meet him. All refuse 
Sword or spear 'gainst him to use. 
Does the fear, too, on thee come? 
Does the threatening face of doom 
Blanch thy cheek and quell thine eye? 

CONLOACH: I fear nothing but to fly. 
If Cuchulain be so great, 
I gain much by his defeat. 
Risking everything, I win 
Trophies he has gathered in. 

163 



, Yet 'tis strange that thou dost trace 

Lineaments in him so base. 

MEVE: Look, Conloach, on this bier! 
Not slain by Cuchulain's spear, 
But by his deeds brought to die- 
Erin's lily low does lie. 

CONLOACH: Beautiful! Can this be death? 
Pout her red lips yet with breath, 
And life's secrets still lie hid 
In those eyes that will unlid; 
She's a dawn about to break — 
Speak to her and she will wake. 

MEVE: Never more to mortal call. 
This dissolving form is all 
That is left of her who was 
Life incarnate; beauty, grace, 
Music, picture and perfume 
Met in one enwreathed bloom. 
At this moment she should stand 
Here to greet thee with her hand; 
Welcome in her sapphire eyes. 
Bashful with a glad surprise. 
Think what fire was quenched in her; 
She was Summer's harbinger. 
Kings slept in her — warriors great. 
To be wakened by a mate 
Such as thou, oh, chief, hadst been. 
But Cuchulain stepped between. 
Robbed her of her woman dues, 
Blackened all the future's hues. 

CONLOACH: He shall die. If in me be 
Vital force for victory! 
O'er this girl's cold hand I bend, 
Swear I war unto the end 
'Gainst one black antagonist. 
Let me be to work dismissed! 

MEVE: Go! My hope is in thy sword. 
Go! Already at the ford, 

164 



He perchance a victim waits; 

Go, thou favorite of the Fates! 

Let delay no doubtings foment; 

The to-morrow of a moment 

Were a century too late. 
Tearing open the curtains of the tent. 

See! Dawn bursts his eastern gate. 

Go, appareled in such plumes 

'Gainst another lord of glooms! 

Let, like his, thy shafts of light 

Make an ending of our night; 

Let a trailing sea of blood 

Make thy oath and our cause good. 
CONLOACH: To the battle test I leap. 

Exit. 
MEVE: Now, my daughter, thou mayst sleep. 



SCENE 9. 
Cuchulain's camp. At one side on a bed of 
skins lies the hero in fevered sleep. By him 
kneels Feithlinn. Finghin, the leech, and Laeg 
in attendance. 
LAEG: Day breaks; Wakens yonder horde. 
Soon the champion at the ford 
Dares Cuchulain to new deeds. 
Harnessed are Cuchulain's steeds. 
FINGHIN: He can rise not. Wounds have torn, 
Watching, fever, broken, worn 
The frail garment of his flesh; 
If his soul sleeps in that mesh 
165 



TIs a wonder. My skill goes 

No whit further. Yet there flows 

Healing, restoration, cure 

From this dream girl s fingers pure. 

Nature's priestess she, and brings 

The secrets of primeval things, 

Mountain airs in crystal caught; 

Wave of fountains with life fraught; 

Forest barks and blossoms grown 

In depths that men have never known. 

Yet will Nature not permit 

She should make him whole and fit 

And for duel raise the dead. 

See, he tosses on his bed. 
FEITHLINN: Hush! He starts in troubled dream. 
CUCHULAIN: Wars, world wars about me gleam — 

Not the wars of minion man — 

The Tuatha de Danaan 

Rise from banquet, from repose; 

In red strife they meet and close; 

Earth's cloud pennoned rock peaks shake; 

Rises from his ocean lake 

The old orderer of the waves; 

Dagda from his forest caves 

Comes with his earth shadowing spear; 

From his red house, crystal clear 

Lugh, my father comes, and comes 

Fiery sleet of arrowy dooms. 

I am with them, my earth might 

Wins me with the gods to fight. 

Ha, Morrigu, is it thou, 

Thou war goddess, who wouldst bow 

Down my crest to trail in dust? 

Back thou goest, turn thou must! 

But thou changest shape and state; 

A gray wolf bitch gaunt and great 

Rushes on me. It, too, goes 

Snarling backward. Water flows 

Round me, breast high, and I feel 

Monster coilings of an eel 

166 



Drag me down resistlessly — 
Ha, I burst them! I am free! 
Now a wide-horned heifer herd 
Charges on me. Goddess stirred 
Is the foremost. Back it whirls, 
Wounded, and the dust upswirls. 
Rings once more, then, my war cry, 
Rings "Cuchulain" thro' the sky; 
But the noise of combat fails; 
The red glare of battle pales; 
Sinks the flame in me Inspired — 
I am wounded, I am tired. 

FEITHLINN: Take, the draught is at thy lips, 
Drink and wake from sleep's eclipse. 

CUCHULAIN 

Waking. 

What! my camp here? The old place. 
Laeg, Finghin, and thy face, 
Fairy being, who dost give 
Medicines that make me live! 
But, ho! I must be about; 
Daylight puts the torches out. 
It is late. The duel hour flies — 
Oh, my bones! I cannot rise. 

FINGHIN: Thou no duel mayst fight to-day. 
Rest Cuchulain! 

CUCHULAIN: May— man— may! 

I must go forth with the sun. 
Else this camp is overrun — 
1 am slaughtered in my bed! 
Maiden are thy charms all sped? 
Give me drugs to ease my pain. 

FEITHLINN: Drink, sir, of this cup again. 

CUCHULAIN: I am better. Help me arm, 
Laeg. Thinkest thou I'll alarm 
Any champion in tr.is strait? 
Yet I thought now I was great; 

167 



Dreamed I battled with the g^ds! 

Comrade rather I of clods. 

Finghin, I another dream 

Had this night. Myself did seem 

Turned into a giant oak, 

Scarred with storm and lightning stroke; 

But the thing prodigious was 

That, dislodged from earth, the mass 

Of my roots I flung in air. 

While with trailing branches bare 

Strode I on across the land. 

The omen canst thou understand? 
FINGHIN: Phantasy of fever that, and naught 

With fate or with the future fraught. 
LAEG: Halt! Who approaches? Friend or foe? 
Enter Conloach in full armor. 

CONLOACH: Foe! A war on those I wage 

Who draw back their battle gage. 
LAEG: 

Seizing a spear. 

Draw thyself back who art come 
Spying to a warrior's home. 

CUCHULAIN: Silence! Let this stranger enter. 

CONLOACH: Who art thou, hid in the center 
Of these ambush woods of night 
Darting forth for fight or flight? 
Art Cuchulain? 

CUCHULAIN: I am he! 

CONLOACH: Then I hold your life in fee. 
I could slay you where you stand 
Undefended. Thou, unmanned, 
Leavest the ford. The truce foregone, 
Meve might move her army on. 
But the action they refuse, 
Fearing trap, decoy, or ruse. 
Only I of all her men 
Come to pluck thee from thy den. 

168 



CUCHULAIN: How foundst thou the path? 

CONLOACH: With ease. 

Footprints, broken branches, trees 
Gnawed by horses — these to me, 
Who am trained in forestry, 
Blaze the roadway to thy door. 
Marvel I none came before. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art schooled well; and I like 
The high spirit that would strike 
At the hearth heart of thy foe. 
Hero — may I call thee so — 
Warrior were scarce warranted. 

CONLOACH: It will be when thou art dead. 
Take defiance, take my hate. 
Something noble shows and great 
In thy bearing, in thy face. 
Yet I know thee foul and base. 
Skulker, prowler, thing of flight, 
An assassin of the night. 
Thro' thee lies a lady dead 
Whose rich beauty radiance shed 
More than could a sea of stars. 
She conducts me thro' my wars. 
Come, prepare thee, arm thee, here 
In this forest mansion clear. 
Where thy witchery rites are said, 
Where the unholy league is made, 
Here will I deal out thy doom. 

CUCHULAIN: No! To the ford, boy. Back! f 
come. 
No "maybe," shall be, or "if." 
You see me incommoded, stiff 
With ageing wounds. But trace your path 
Back to the river. There my wrath 
Shall fall on you before yon host. 

CONLOACH: I take your word! I go! But boast- 
Boast better when one hour is past. 
Exit. 



CUCHULAIN: Maiden, to me. Quick! Thou hast 
More of that life thrilling gift! 

FEITHLINN: To thy lips the cup I lift; 

Drink to the bottom. Thou shalt have 
Strength to match thy spirit brave. 

CUCHULAIN: Fire rolls thro' me. Now my soul 
Haughtily shakes off control 
Of the weaknesses of flesh. 
Plumes and talons take I. Fresh 
Swoop I downward on my prey. 

Laeg and Finghin help to arm Mm. 

Come, my charioteer. Away! 

Wait here Finghin! Maiden sweet, 

Thou who hast remade complete 

The fabric of Cuchulain's force. 

Let thy wishes speed my course. 

I to certain victory 

Go! Yet omens rise in me — 

Dark foreboding, nameless fear. 

Fate who playest with men here, 

Hast thou some strange trick in store? 

Well, I fight. I can no more. 

Exeunt Cuchulain and Laeg. 

FINGHIN: Worker of this miracle, 

Whence thy power.' What thy spell? 
Leechcraft know I, and the arts 
The Druid mystery imparts — 
But no art know I like thine. 

FEITHLINN: Schoolless, skilless hand of mine! 
Nothing of man's art I know; 
Little among men I go. 
In the forests, by the streams 
Live I lapt in lovely dreams. 
Thro' my heart's doors opened wide 
All the forest people glide; 
Mighty eagle, tiny bird — 
Mystic owl — and all the herd 

170 



Of the great, grim creatures there, 

Painted pard and furry bear, 

Timidly appealing fawn; 

And the incense smoke of dawn, 

And the crystal racing floods, 

And the nobles of the woods. 

Oaks old ere the wood tribes strove, 

All do know me; all do love. 

And they love Guchulain, too; 

For as I went to and fro 

Blossoms, nodding to me, said, 

"Take us to Cuchulain's aid." 

I stood by the riverside. 

And herbs floating down the tide 

Whispered, "For Cuchulain's aid." 

In the secretest wood glade. 

Bubbling up impetuous, 

A fount spoke "Cuchulain." Thus 

Blossoms, herbs I took and bruised 

And In the fount's wave infused; 

Made a ruddy glowing draught. 

Which thrilled thro' me as I quaffed. 

To Guchulain this I gave — 

Him the gods of nature save. 

Enter Feircetne. 

FEIRCETNE: Glorious tidings! Mighty day! 
Our troubles roll like smoke away. 
Where's Guchulain? 

FINGHIN: At the ford. 

FEIRGETNE: It was needless. Us toward 
Moves and towers the armament 
Ulster's muster, battle bent. 
Ulster's men and Ulster's lords 
Spears like forests — naked swords 
Thick as is a field of grain. 

FINGHIN: Where? 

FEIRGETNE: On Moy Muirthelmne's plain. 

171 



FINGHIN: Who are come? 

FEIRCETNE: From Ulster's heights, 
From a background of delights, 
In a thousand Ulster homes, 
Conor's Red Branch corps first comes; 
And they shout as men athirst 
When the fountains on them burst, 
As they see their foeman's tents. 
Swords, spears, used for implements, 
Swift they build a great mound up, 
Like to an inverted cup, 
In mid plain, of earth and stones, 
With grass sodded seats in zones 
Round the top: and Conor there 
Seats him in his hall of air. 
And, as line by line, sweep down 
Other squadrons, till they drown 
The green plain out with the wave 
Of the red and gray plumed brave. 
One by one the chiefs ascend 
The mound's steps, until they bend 
There in belting, blazing ring; 
At the right hand of the King 
Counsellor, old Sencha, sits. 
Worn and wizened, but his wits 
Glinting in his caverned eyes; 
Lord of Druid mysteries, 
Cathba sits on the left hand, 
And the priests at his command 
Far beyond, upon the heights. 
Work their spells and act their rites; 
Cumscraid, Conor's son. Is there; 
Celtchar, Laegaire, mighty pair; 
Lightly Conall Cearnach springs 
In the cirque, and with him brings 
Ere mac Cairpres, heir of kings. 
Baby warrior, with white shield; 
Round the glittering ring revealed 
Faces, forms of might stand forth, 
All the league of all the North. 

172 



Master of the making word, 

Master of the slaying sword, 

Waits Amargin, Feigna waits 

For the opening of war's gates; 

Errge and Eoghan lean, 

Blood scent in their nostrils keen; 

And Munremer's crimson face 

Scarred with fresh wounds there does blaze 

Like a comet o'er the throng. 

Throne of the head chief at song 

My place opposite the King 

Waits on my knight erranting — 

And thy seat, too, empty Is. 

FINGHIN: But Cuchulain! Do they miss 
Place and seat and throne shall wait 
For the Savior of the State? 

FEIRCETNE: In the cirque's mid centre set 
A grass couch is vacant yet 
For the soul of the whole war; 
But he lingers. Hark! Afar 
Groans up murmur thro' the wood. 

FINGHIN: He his last test has withstood 
Surely! Lo! the sounds draw near. 

Enter Cuchulain, hurt and weak, helping him- 
self with his sword. After him Laeg carrying 
the mortally wounded Conloach. 

CUCHULAIN: Lay the boy upon my bed! 

FINGHIN: Dying is he or is dead. 

CUCHULAIN: Canst thou help him? 

FINGHIN: Warrior, no! 

Hurt is he past mortal aid. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou, thou dream girl, fairy maid, 
Medicine miraculous 
Of the elf folk thou bringest us. 
Canst thou his spent force revive — 
Give him back his years to live? 

173 



FEITHLINN: Ah! I know not. I will try. 
Young, he is so young to die. 

CUCHULAIN: He is noble. My heart opes 
Wide to take him. Fears and hopes 
It has never known before 
Flutter round its threshold door. 

FEITHLINN: 

She raises Gonloach's head, puts the cup to 
Jiis lips and makes him drink. 

Rigid, senseless art thou? No; 

A few drops thou sippest slow. 
Now thine eyes ope. Greedily 
The cool draught thou takest from me. 

CONLOACH: What folk are ye? Where am I? 
Thou Cuchulain? Seest I die? 
Thou art conqueror! 

He faints again. 

CUCHULAIN: Girl, again 
Give him drink 

FINGHIN: Ah, useless pain! 

From Life's secret inmost cave 
Ebbs forth the life-giving wave. 

CUCHULAIN: Try it! I would fain be shriven 
For the deathblow I have given. 

Feithlinn again gives Conloach the medicine 
and again he revives. 

Boy, forgive me. 

CONLOACH: I forgive! 

We met equal. Thou dost live; 
I am floating, drifting far: 
Why, this is the fate of war. 

CUCHULAIN: Give thy hand, then. 

CONLOACH: Here it is; 

Proud its conqueror's palm to kiss. 

174 



All Mdve's words of foul disgrace 
From thee fall. Thou art not base! 
Great I know you, generous, true. 
Ah, would fate my life renew 
I your pupil would become; 
I would serve you in your home. 

CUCHULAIN: 

Who 7ias been looking at a ring on Conloach's 
hand. 

Where got you this ring, boy? 

CONLOACH: Ah, 

That my birthright must declare! 
But my mother gave It me. 

CUCHULAIN: Quick! Your mother! Who was she? 

CONLOACH: Scathach's daughter. Why art stired? 
Hast thou of my mother heard? 

CUCHULAIN. Who your father? 

CONLOACH: I know not. 

Wandered he from my birth spot 
Ere the dawn of my birthday; 
Died he, lived he, who can say? 
He my mother gave the ring. 
I wear it in my wandering. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou my son art! Thou my son! 
Son to death by father done: 
Son unknown until too late; 
Son unseen till shuts life's gate. 
Loose, let loose my murderous hand — 
It should burn thee like a brand. 

CONLOACH: Is it true? Art thou my sire? 
Did Cuchulain's mounting fire 
Fill my veins? Why that pays all! 
That is price imperial! 
I shall carry unto death 
Honor's starry blossomed wreath. 

17S 



I, oh, father, pardon crave 
That the vile reports of Meve 
For a little swayed my mind; 
Pardon that my sword did find 
In thee one unguarded place; 
Fold me into thy embrace. 
Kiss me, father. Be not sad. 
I am happy. I have had 
Beauteous mother, father great — 
Sir, farewell. Be fortunate. 

Dies. 

FEIRCETNE: Monstrous! 

FINGHIN: Horrifying! 

CUCHULAIN: Oh! 

Silence! Let me think and know 

Whose the bow has shot this bolt. 

Man from such deed would revolt; 

But that hag unnatural — 

Meve it is has planned it all. 

Spake he not of her reports 

That had swayed from me his thoughts? 

Quick, my horses, Laeg. I 

Ride to final victory. 

I no more round Meve will coast; 

Right upon her central host 

Go I, and my thunder wheels 

She shall hear not ere she feels 

Thro' her heart my lightning thrust. 

FEIRCETNE: Stay, Cuchulain! Stay! You must! 
No more single foray needs. 
Ready now for battle deeds 
All the host of Ulster's men 
Wait you. Come to them, and then 
Gather full the harvest in 
Of revenge for Meve's foul sin. 

CUCHULAIN: Lead me to them. I am weak; 
We'll those lagging warriors seek. 

176 



Finghin, noble sage, my friend, 
Stay thou where Hope makes an end 
In yon mansion he had leased. 
From intruding bird or beast 
Guard my son; till bronze and stone 
Can encase him and make known, 
Or rather until yonder field 
Shall his red memorial yield. 

Exeunt Cuchulain and Feircetne. Finghin 
and Feithlinn remain hy the hody of Conloach, 



SCENE 10. 

The mound overlooking Muirtheimne's plain. 
On a circle of grass sodded seats sit Conor and 
the Ulster chiefs, Sencha, Conall Cearnach, 
Celtchar, Amargin and others. 

CONOR: Do the hosts of Erin move? 

CONALL: Like one mighty mantle wove 
Out of white threads, gold and blue, 
Shot with steel gleams thro' and thro', 
Cloak they all yon slopes and heights; 
Now the fabric disunites; 
Lines and patches downward slide 
Rolling to the riverside. 

CONOR: But the leaders! How disposed? 

CONALL: North and South the line opposed 
Stretches three miles. I should say 
By the pennons in array 
Meve has the South wing in hand, 
Leinster and the Maines band 

177 



With her. On the North I see 
Magach's Munster cavalry. 
And beside him and above 
The lost one of Ulster's love 
Erring exile, Fergus, stands. 

CONOR: Ha! the man who from his lands 
I have chased — beside whose hearth 
The fox litters — deer have birth; 
Who to woman's service driven 
Breaks his faith to home and heaven. 
Tho' behind his shield and pale, 
The three candles of the Gael 
Usnach's sons I slew. And spite 
Of his force I win this fight! 
Conor, son of Fachtna, I 
Heir of Erin's royalty! 

CONALL: Shall we down. Our serried ranks 
Restless grow. The armor clanks. 
Rustles the expectant spears. 
CONOR: Warriors, nobles, chieftains, peers. 
Head each man his own array — 

Enter Cuchulain, half led, half carried hy 
Feircetne. 

Who art thou, gaunt vision gray? 

FEIRCETNE: 'Tis Cuchulain! 

All the assembly rises and salutes Cuchulain, 
who stands before them for a moment and then 
sinks unconscious on the central seat. 

CONALL: Warrior, hail! 

AMARGIN: Hail, thou glory of the Gael! 

SENCHA: Shield and bulwark of the State, 
That in thee is fortunate. 
Hail! 

CONOR: He hears not. Sleeps each sense. 
He recks not our reverence. 
Is this spectre, indeed, him 
Lithe of form and round of limb, 

178 



With his dark face sparkling fire, 
Splendid in his rich attire? 
Ha! to keep a host at bay 
Wastes a mortal's flesh away. 
Hero, rest thee; 'tis thy due. 
We this hour will fight for you. 
Thou, Feircetne, be his guard; 
Thou, too, Sencha, watch and ward 
Keep above him. Comrades, come; 
He has taught us to strike home. 

Conor and the chiefs descend from the 
mound, leaving Sencha and Feircetne with 
Cuchiilain. 

FEIRCETNE: It was never said before 
That to lead Cuchulain's corps 
There was none, nor he nor I, 
When rang out our battle cry. 
He would urge me from his side, 
He would send me tho' he died. 
Sencha, thou canst keep the mound! 
I go to the battle ground. 

Exit. 

SENCHA: So, and I am old, it seems 
For a man-nurse or a leech 
Only fitted. I whose schemes, 
I whose golden chains of speech 
Knit and drew our power here; 
And they leave me in the rear, 
I to whom the van were due. 

Enter Feithlinn. 

Pretty creature, who are you? 

FEITHLINN: Feithlinn, fairy prophetess. 

SENCHA: Thou a soldier's wounds canst dress, 
Soothe him, comfort him in pain. 
Wilt thou with this man remain? 

FEITHLINN: Willingly! For that I came. 

179 



8ENCHA: Farewell, then, thou frame of flame. 
Stay! His sword I best had take, 
Or else when he shall awake 
He may plunge into the fight. 

He takes Cuchulain's sioord from its sheath. 
Guard thy patient, maid, aright. 

Exit. 
FEITHLINN: Thou art broken, shattered, tired! 
Sleep for thee is most desired. 
Soldier, sleep! To watch by thee 
Many a maid would envy me. 
Gloomy greatness, beauty bright, 
In thy countenance unite. 
The coiled lightning of thy might 
Thro' thy tattered garbing gleams. 
Thou needst nothing. Battle streams 
Round us. From this height I may 
Send my soul forth to the fray. 

She kneels on Conor^s raised seat at the rear 
of the mound and gazes outward. 

Oh, the splendor! Oh, the might! 
Earth outblazes the sunlight 
Like a meadow in the spring 
Rich with May's apparelling. 
Harnessed warriors, waving plumes 
Are the wide plain's newborn blooms. 
From the river's farther marge 
Comes one wall — one linked targe 
Sprinkled, crested, foamed thro' 
With the white plumes and the blue. 
This side, colors gray and red 
Wave above the helmeted; 
Pennons flutter everywhere; 
Spear points glitter in the air; 
Sounds the trumpets shattering din 
Till the war cries over win. 
Ha! the firm based plain does shake 
As with presage of earthquake — 

180 



Now they meet. Oh, who shall save 
Men so glorious and so brave? 
Ranks lie levelled on the plain; 
Earth takes a new crimson stain. 
Horror! I mine eyes do bar, 
I can look not on the war. 
After a pause. 

Noise rolls nearer. I must see. 

Fate art Ulster's enemy? 

Ail our right is overthrown; 

Spearman scattered, chariots flown; 

And a giant warrior drives 

'Gainst each isle group that survives. 

It is Fergus. Him to check 

Conor rushes, but in wreck 

Whirls back, hardly saved. Blue waves 

O'er the field in victory; 

Red is broken. We must fly! 

CUCHULAIN: 

He has wakened and gradually gathered him- 
self up erect during Feithlinn's recital. 

Who are broken, girl? Who fly? 

FEITHLINN: Broken are the Red Branch crests. 
Death alone their flight arrests. 

CUCHULAIN: Time may other doom afford. 
Who has robbed me of my sword? 
This will do till better chance. 
Ho, Cuchulain! 

He picks up the T)roken tronze pole of a 
chariot and rushes off. 

FEITHLINN: Meve's advance 

Checks at that repeated cry — 
Myriad voices multiply 
Echoes of Cuchulain's name. 
Now the red plumes halt in shame; 
Backward, breaking, turn the blue. 
Look, Cuchulain rages thro' 

ISl 



Groups that straggle o'er the plain. 
Strikes he — twice — again, again. 
He is weaponed. He has won 
Chariot seat. A god revealed 
Flies he o'er the foeman's field, 
Blighting, blasting thro' their ranks. 
As a flood o'erflows its banks, 
Whirling tree trunks, houses down, 
Bursts he thro' the overthrown. 
Singles he one flying foe — 
Charioted, together go 
The four horses. Blow on blow 
Aims the hero. But more fast 
Drives the foeman — here, at last 
Toward the mound, his life to save! 
'TIs a woman! It is Meve! 
Leaps she from the car, her gear 
Rattling. Mounts she. She is here! 

Enter Meve in ivar panoply, pursued hy 
Cuchulain. 

CUCHULAIN: Down, thou false, foul fiend, to hell. 

MEVE: Ha, I face thee, warrior fell. 

They fight and Cuchulain strikes her to her 
knees. She covers herself with her shield. 

MEVE: Yet one moment hold thy sword. 
Let me speak one word — one word. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou hast spoken. Thy words are 
Herald pursuivants of war. 
Hate and horror. Thy hour's by. 
Thou art judged, and thou must die. 



MEVE: 



Rising suddenly she puts aside her shield and 
sword and stands before him defenseless. 

Strike! A woman slay — and boast! 
Shout thy victory to yon host. 
182 



Right between these milk paps here 
Let thy sword, dishonored, shear; 
Thro' that weakness let it win 
Babes have found a shelter in. 

CUCHULAIN: I will slay thee— doubt it not. 
My son's spirit near this spot 
Waits the expiating stroke. 
Nature for thee does revoke 
All its laws. No woman thou 
Hag — fiend unto whom must bow 
Demons of the under fire. 
What! A son against his sire 
Send? And in unnatural blood 
Dip the hands of fatherhood? 
Tho' earth sickens at thy dust, 
Oh, pollution, die thou must. 

MEVE: Mercy, oh, Cuchulain, have. 
I am not fit for the grave. 
Wilt thou, mighty hero, slay 
One whose woman mind gave way, 
Beaten, baffled, angered, crost, 
When at last her child she lost — 
Lost thro' thee? Revenge I snatched. 
And by thee thy son dispatched. 
For the daughter that I had. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art foolish, woman, madi 
I thy daughter never knew. 

MEVE: Yet she died — she died thro' you. 
Thy fool challenge of my host 
Lost me conquest, kingdom; cost 
Lives of myriad men, and, most. 
Bowed down Erin's loveliest head, 
Loveliest body, to the dead. 

CUCHULAIN: So! I knew of old thy art! 
But my sword will pierce no heart 
Vestured in a woman's flesh. 
Go! and weave thy plots afresh. 
1S3 



Go! thine armies backward lead. 
If when morning dawns, indeed, 
Vestige of them lingers still 
I will follow, I will kill. 

MEVE: Oh, great chieftain of the North, 
I obey thee — no more wroth. 

Exit Meve. 

CUCHULAIN: Life of man! It Is to fare 
Ocean o'er, unknowing where; 
First with prosperous airs, in sight 
Of rich Isles of jewelled light; 
Then comes darkness, comes the night; 
Leap the storm beasts on the deck; 
Tear they at the shattered wreck; 
Then again a little lull, 
And the stars beam beautiful, 
Sunlight blazes without fault. 
But within the hollow vault 
Still the whirlwind does abide. 
Death is inch deep 'neath tide. 
Brief the moment to be blest. 
I am weary, I would rest. 

FEITHLINN: Hither, hero, hither come! 
March the men of the Red plume. 
Drunk with victory, rich with spoil 
Come the lords of battle toil. 

Feithlinn supports Cuchulain as he leans on 
Conor's seat and feehly waves his sword to the 
bands of Ultonians who march by. 

The voice of Conor, below. 

Hail, Cuchulain, hero, hail! 
Glory of the conquering Gael. 
Gather we the harvest red 
That thy seedtime scattered. 

Yoice of Amargin, below. 

184 



We the servants of the sword 
Bow to its immortal lord. 
Hail Cuchulain, central star 
Of the planet web of war! 

Voice of Sencha, helow. 

Ulster opens all its gates 
To thee, shaker down of States; 
On man's soul, on heart of maid 
Is Cuchulain's name displayed. 

Voice of Feircetne, helow. 

By thee here the present streams, 
Far the future glancing gleams: 
Thou no rival hast to-day, 
None shall rise 'gainst thee for aye; 
Hall, Cuchulain, who alone 
Has a nation overthrown — 

Amid an unextinguisliahle tumult of shout- 
ings of Cuchulain's na^ne the scene closes. 



185 



Ouchulain 



PERSONiE 

Cuchulain. 

Emer. 

Meve. 

Uila. 

Igloia. 

Eithe. 

Cathba. 

Conall. 

Feircetne. 

Ajthirne. 

Ere. 

Nuarda. 

Grainne. 

Oilioll. 
Attendants, Ladies, Knights of the Red 
Branch, Knights of Connacht, IVIunster and 
Leinster. 



CUCHULAIN 



SCENE 1. 

A chamher in Meve's palace in Cruachan, 
Connacht. Meve seated on her throne. Before 
her grovel on the floor the three daughters of 
Calatin — Ulla, Igloia and Eithe. They are 
mutilated, each one having lost the left arm 
and right leg. 

MEVE: Greeting, gossips! 

THE THREE: Hail, oh, Queen! 

MEVE: So many years where have ye been? 

ULLA: Thou dost know! 

MEVE: I? 

IGLOIA: Thou didst send! 

EITHE: We did wander, we did wend 

On thine errands. 
MEVE: Mine? Not so. 
THE THREE: We do see and we do know! 

MEVE: What dost know, then, hateful ones? 
Night hags that the brightest suns 
Cannot gild; shades that intrude, 
Darkening day's happiest mood; 
Dreams of horror from which men 
Wake shrieking; things of den or fen. 
Where ye are the air is taint; 
Children hide and women faint; 
Isolated, lonely, ye 
Can come in no company; 
Ye are prisoned in yourselves, 
Cursed by men and cursed by elves; 
189 



No man shall desire your grace, 
No babe look up In your face. 
Banned and barred and shut from life! 
Dare ye, then, bend looks of strife 
'Gainst me who own your fealty? 

ULLA: She does mock us! 

IGLOIA: She? 

EITHE: Aye, she! 

MEVE: And why not, ye saucy ones? 
Deem ye ye are such paragons 
Of beauty and of womanhood, 
Riches, glory, royal blood, 
That I must bow down from my place, 
Or greet ye, equal, with embrace? 

ULLA: I shake this stump before thine eyes! 

IGLOIA: My legless trunk dost thou despise? 

EITHE: Poor mutilated wretches we! 

Yet fear, queen, fear the things we be. 

MEVE: I fear ye not. Why should I fear? 

ULLA: Thou didst it. Thou! In that far year 

When sprang we from our mother's womb 
On the earth that was a tomb 
To all our kin, to all our race, 
Thou, smarting from a day's disgrace, 
And dreadful thoughts and plotted task 
Hiding behind thy face's mask. 
Took us, infants, perfect, whole, 
And left us blotted from Life's roll; 
No choice for us, no place, no use, 
Rags, remnants, fragments and refuse. 
Yet in our veins the blood that might 
Bloom, blossom, crown us with delight; 
Yet in our minds the stirring wings 
Of lovely and of glorious things; 
Thou mad'st us damned, dark, inhuman. 
Thou cruel, dire and dreadful woman. 

190 



MEVE: I did it, and it was well done. 
List a wisdom dearly won! 
I am woman; I am queen; 
IVIastery my life has been; 
Triumph in battle and in court; 
Rich decked beauty, splendid port; 
Strained in a man's embrace 
My bed was no resting place: 
Children hung my breasts unto, 
And one daughter beauteous grew, 
Flower in aspect, blossoming free, 
Like to a bird haunted tree. 
Still the glory's on my house; 
Still the most of Erin bows 
Here before me, and my word 
Strikes men down as does a sword. 
Yet, behold me, impotent. 
Prey to anger, discontent; 
A venom thro' me writhes and strives; 
My great enemy yet lives. 
I cannot harm him more than when 
Fled from his face my rout of men. 
At that hour, from that blow, 
From your kinsfolk's overthrow, 
I saved ye, made ye dedicate 
To the purpose of my hate. 
And that ye should live apart 
That hate should nest him in each heart. 
All your human hopes I killed. 
Wizard children, ye are willed 
To be students of the powers 
Hid in life's abyssmal hours — 
What have ye lost? What fate's a girl's? 
When a youth but shakes his curls, 
Whistles to her, she must go 
Toy and tool, despised so; 
She trusts her spell of breast and face. 
Trusts the charms of her embrace; 
But a mightier spell and charm. 
Ye do fill and ye do arm. 

191 



The evil wisdom that has birth 

In the four quarters of the earth, 

In Egypt or in Babylon, 

Or 'mid the Northern crags mist-born, 

I have sent ye forth to win. 

Now, thou ambassadors of sin, 

Illusion, charm, enchanted spell. 

Thou knowest them all — and I did well. 

IGLOIA: Mighty Queen, to thee I raise 

Voice of thanks and words of praise; 

For the barter of my youth 

Thou hast given me power in sooth. 

They who scorn me soon fall sick; 

I trade between the dead and quick; 

Women that shudder as I pass, 

Shriek when they look next in the glass. 

O'er all minds a power I have 

To madden and to make them rave; 

Memory's reign can I suspend. 

And illusion without end 

Build in the monarch banished brain — 

I thy servant, Queen, remain. 

EITHE: Take my homage, too, for I 

Have spells that rule the liegeless sky. 

I can compel the clouds, and make 

Stars grow wan — auroras wake; 

Green earth I can mould and change; 

Forests plant where they were strange; 

Mountains level; and I can 

Banish rivers where they ran; 

Enchanted chariots of the air 

Waft me where I would repair; 

If no real ends are won 

I can make these things seem done. 

ULLA: I, too, mistress, I confess. 
Can feign me into happiness. 
This loathsome garb of flesh I bear 
I can slough off and nobly wear 

192 



The apparelling of perfect youth; 
Eyes like stars and dewy mouth 
Beauty's bust, limbs of desire, 
White glowing like a marble fire. 
Clothed thus I take of right 
Love and homage and delight. 

IGLOIA: Sisters, crawl unto her feet. 
Crawl and kiss her fingers sweet 
That have given us gifts like these. 

ULLA AND EITHE: We com.e! V\/e come! 'Tis 
ours to please! 

MEVE: Be true and grateful, shapes of sin! 
Enough! Enough! clan Calatin! 

IGLOIA: Our father's name! 

EITHE: V/hy namest thou him? 

MEVE: Has his death tale, then, grown dim, 
And thy twenty brothers spread 
On one dire and reeking bed? 
Dost forget and dost forgive! 

IGLOIA: No. 

ULLA: No. 

EITHE: No! 

MEVE: The man does live — 

Do ye remember vjho that then 
Flashed his sword, again, again. 
In the white forms of your kin? 

IGLOIA: 'Twas Cuchulain! 

MEVE: What, then, in 

Life's great hopes, hold ye most good? 

THE THREE: Cuchulain's blood! Cuchulain's blood! 

MEVE: Waste ye the hours, then, not his life? 

IGLOIA: Sisters, away! 

EITHE: I scent the strife! 

193 



M£VE: Hold yet! Before I let you go 
Make me sure that you do know 
Magic strong enough to cope 
With the spells within his scope. 
Priests and ollavs guard him round; 
Head Druid of all Irish ground, 
Cathba, o'er Cuchulain keeps 
Watch or while he wakes or sleeps. 

IGLOIA: Cathba's art is holy art; 

He reads the secret of each heart; 

The writings of the stars he reads, 

And knows what fate from them proceeds; 

He weighs the clouds in their crystal urn, 

And knows how their delicate motions turn 

The minds and the affairs of men; 

Useless hope to blind him then. 

He will divine us ere our breath 

Stains one league on our voyage of death. 

Warning, counsel, he can give — 

But the evil and the good that live 

In Cuchulain will us aid. 

Doubt not! Dismiss us on our raid. 

MEVE: Not yet. Here, close behind my throne. 
Rest, sombre, silent, and unknown! 

Tliey huddle together in the rear of Meve's 
throne. 

Ho, there, without! 
Enter an attendant. 
ATTENDANT: Thy will, oh, Queen! 
MEVE: The King and Princes, are they yet 

In the great audience chamber met? 
ATTENDANT: Aye, Madam! 
MEVE: Usher them to me. 

The attendant throios open the doors of the 

room and Oilioll and the princes and chieftains 

of the four provinces of Erin enter. Meve comes 

down from the throne. 

194 



Welcome and thanks to all I see! 

Most Royal King, assume thy throne. 
OILIOLL: But you — 
MEVE: I stand till we have done — 

This is man's business. The debate 

We broach now, thought of long and late, 

Is War! 
OILIOLL: War! 
SEVERAL CHIEFS: War! 
OTHERS IN THE BACKGROUND: War! War! 

War! 
MEVE: Chieftains of my race, arouse! 

Props of our own royal house. 

Men of Connacht! Munster's Kings, 

Wearing rival crowns and rings, 

With your men of name and might 

Famed in songs of farthest flight. 

Wake! Thou, Leinster, send again, 

All your proud and splendid train. 

Princes, warriors, Druids, bards. 

Hurling, whirling battlewards! 

Warriors of the Irish race. 

Gloom and grievance and disgrace 

Are upon you. Hast forgot 

That our sad, our fatal lot. 

That the fighting of the Ford, 

When by one great warrior awed 

All our battle, halted, broke, 

Dazed by stroke on stroke on stroke? 

He who dealt those thunderbolts 

Lives. My heart in me revolts 

Thinking of Cuchulain's fame, 

Thinking of our kingdom's shame. 

Men, is there among you all 

One who has not seen down fall 

Father, brother, son or friend. 

By Cuchulain brought to end? 

Will ye crouch like dogs and take 

Lash and boot for Peace's sake? 

195 



Let the Bards upon you shed 
Words of venom never dead? 
Or will ye again let fly 
Your flags as eaglets take the sky, 
And follow where ourselves shall lead 
And buy a great revenge indeed? 
Erin's men from near or far, 
Say shall it be or peace or war! 

OMNES: War! 

MEVE: That is the right thunder sound. 
Bring forth our banner. 

The banner of GonnacM is displayed in the 
centre of the hall. 

Cluster round, 

Friends of Erin, Ulster's foes—.. 

Swear that save the sky shall fall 

Or the sea come over all, 

Or that the firm earth disclose 

Bottomless abysses 'neath your feet, 

Ye will never brook defeat. 

Will not flinch or fail or fly 

Till ye make good your fame or die. 

OMNES: We swear! 

IVIEVE: Our purpose in one breath! 

OIVINES: Cuchulain's death! Cuchulain's death! 



ise 



SCENE 2. 

Seacoast at Dundealgan. Smooth sands with 
ebbing tide. A few boulders on the beach. Sun- 
set. 

CUCHULAIN (alone): 

Palsied Is my impetuous hand? 

Blind my unerring eye? 

Singly or in companies 

The birds fly o'er thro' the blue. 

As many and much swifter shafts 

Send I to follow them; 

These return to break on the beach, 

Or like plummets plunge in the wave — 

No bird falls by my hand! 

Are they charmed or is my skill gone? 

Let me test it another way! 

He takes a red plume from 7iis bonnet and 
fastens it in a piece of driftioood and sets this 
up against a rock at the extremity of the scene. 
Retracing his steps he discharges swiftly three 
arrows at the mark. They all strike wide. 

Is it an omen? Must I 
On the last threshold of fate 
Wait for the winnowing wings 
Of the fay who shall usher me hence? 
Never before have my shafts 
Missed, tho' in battle about 
Opponents huge on me hurled, 
Making it hardship to aim; 
Never in hunt on the hills 
When the deer glided, a gleam 
Evanescent as thought! 
Ha, comes an eagle afloat 
On the balancing breadth of its sails. 
Try I once more my might. 
197 



Fits an arrow to the string, hesitates and then 
dashes the weapon to the ground. 

No, not on thee, king of air, 
Make I last trial of skill; 
Dominant in thy disdain. 
Peaks thy palaces are. 
Thou lookest thence on the world, 
Waiting but on the sun, 
Proud attendant of him. 
See, he sinks on his bed; 
Thou from thy service set free 
Makest thy voyage to me. 
Sink I, too, to my sleep. 

He sits down on a boulder. 

Not to the orb of the day 
Must I compare my career. 
Rather sometimes at night 
When the full rush of the stars 
Rides o'er the plain of the dark, 
Phalanxes, companies, scouts. 
Think I that I am with them, 
Ordering onward their charge 
Against these foes of the night; 
Beings invisible half, 
Whose bodies glimmer and gleam 
A great wide pathway of death, 
Halving the round of the sky. 

While he is musing Emer and Lavarcam 
enter unseen and come up behind him. Emer 
places her hand on his shoulder. He starts to 
his feet, throwing her from him. 

EMER: Throwest me off, my soldier, so? 
Were we warriors of the foe 
We had chance to overwhelm 
The sentinel of Ulster's realm. 

CUCHULAIN: I am caught, girl, in thy lure; 
Let me pay the forfeiture! 

198 



What! Lavarcam is our guest. 
Madam, on this rock throne rest; 
It has lasted, while the pride 
Of kings has gone out like the tide. 

LAVARCAM: But will you stand? 

CUCHULAIN: Here's Emer, she 

A flowering staff will be to me. 
LAVARCAM: Art happy, hero? 
CUCHULAIN: Partly so, 

Much as this pest wife will allow. 
LAVARCAM: Love lives faithful at thy side; 

Glory's thy eternal bride; 

Like a sunset cloud thy house 

Gilded, glowing, bannered shows — 

Riches, splendor, spoils of war 

Dusk domains that stretch afar, 

All are thine. 

CUCHULAIN: Are mine indeed! 
Dundealgan, glorious meed 
Of my strife contenteth me. 

LAVARCAM: Thou must leave it instantly! 

CUCHULAIN: What? 

LAVARCAM: From Conor swift I come. 

Darkens again a day of doom. 

At Emania by his side 

He needs Ulster's prop and pride — 

Clans thicken 'neath day's southern arch. 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! Meve's astir. 

LAVARCAM: And on the march! 

CUCHULAIN: Why, here's my place then. I will 
meet 
The onset and turn back their feet. 

LAVARCAM: Not so. Not here, again, alone 
Thou'it meet the battle billow blown. 
Imperious the King's summons is, 
Swift thou must leave thy place of bliss. 

199 



CUCHULAIN: Leave Dundealgan? Leave my home 
Empty unto what hordes may come? 
Onward fly when foeman call 
Taunting 'neath my castle wall? 
I'll not do it. 

LAVARCAM: Thy proud mate, 
Emer, help me supplicate! 

EMER: Dreadful, direful is the word, 
Piercing like a fiery sword, 
Bidding leave this best abode 
Built on marge of mount and flood. 
Men's great spirits may assume 
To overcrowd the earth for room. 
But a narrow circuit walls 
What Elysium woman calls; 
Hearth, household are her outward heart. 
Of her being piece and part: 
Yet, Cuchulain, not in front. 
Must thou bear the battle brunt. 
Quell thine all-aspiring mood! 
Back to the Red Branch brotherhood! 
Let Meve in Dundealgan sit. 
And at Emania answer it. 

CUCHULAIN: Urge me not. Laeg! Ho! prepare 
My chariot. Ho! Feircetne, there. 

Enter Laeg and Feircetne. 

My poet. Of thy heart m.ake strings 
And harp me high inspiritings. 
War's on us, Bard! Laeg, my horse; 
Groom him for an unrivalled course! 

LAEG: Paws he fire with hoofs of steel, 
Thunder neighing — peal on peal; 
With red nostrils stretched wide 
Mane that tosses from side to side 
Lashing tail. 

FEIRCETNE: Does yawning peace 

End? Then song shall have increase. 

200 



LAVARCAM: Hold, Cuchulain! Druid, bard, 
Cathba has a sleepless ward 
O'er thee. From his towering height, 
Verge hall of the Infinite, 
Where his spirit wings at will, 
He sees each human good or ill; 
He sees prepare all mortal dooms. 
Thence his solemn summons comes. 
That bids thee to Emania go. 

CUCHULAIN: Cathba calls me! 

LAVARCAM: Aye! Alone 

For thee the battle breeze is blown. 
Meve's hate, Meve's vengeance is thy due. 
And now she wakes a hideous crew, 
Powers of night against thee bent. 
Things that command each element. 
Helpless and undefended, here 
Thou canst not meet this force of fear. 

CUCHULAIN: Cathba calls me! The priest 
To whom augury, omen, are clear 
Prophesies danger to me. 
Ha! that drives with my dream! 
Last night my soul strode abroad. 
Leaving my cold body couched 
By the white form of Emer, my wife; 
It strode where the sound of the surge 
With its infinite, blended voice 
Invited, enticed it, allured. 
By the broad and moonlit beach 
The woman, the goddess, I saw 
Who erst in my earliest youth 
Thro' the other world was my guide. 
She motioned me into her car; 
I sank on the silver seat. 
In the cirque of her silver arms; 
The horses flashed through the foam; 
The ocean closed o'er our heads; 
We gained the gates of the gods; 
Saw the pleasant plains of Moy Mell; 



Saw the heroes' horses and cars, 

Silver, golden, bronze, 

On the flower thick course contend; 

Saw the active athletes at play; 

Saw the gardens glimmering with girls, 

Garlanded, gracious of look; 

Saw the porches, palaces, halls, 

Marble, serpentine, onyx, 

Crysolite, jasper and beryl. 

With fretwork of flaming stones. 

Opals composed of fire. 

The red corundum ablaze. 

Diamonds, emeralds, pearls; 

And there seated or couched. 

With woman in cordial converse. 

With drinking vessels a-foam, 

Ease in each port, in each face 

Deepest, divinest delight. 

The heroes and final gods. 

Immortals that once were men, 

I saw, and a voice floated out: 

"Why Cuchulain," it said, 

"Cage in the prisoning world? 

His is no lofty seat. 

The ruler of short-lived men, 

Waiting an imminent death; 

But the Eternal ones choose, 

Beg for thy company here — 

Where is no trouble, annoy, 

Dishonor, ruin or death — 

Such was my dream, and I see 

Omens and warnings combine 

To thrust it deep on my heart. 

Conor, the King, commands, 

Cathba calls me to him. 

Emer, Feircetne — friends, 

Guests of my hearth, I will go. 



202 



SCENE 3. 

A room in Guchulain's palace at Emania. 
Cathba, Cuchulain, Feircetne and Emer. 

FEIRCETNE: Safe, if shamefaced, we are here, 
Having bolted clean and clear. 
Walled, against what foe that comes 
We can safely bite our thumbs. 
Cathba, your magic does excel; 
You have done a miracle; 
Made Cuchulain turn his back 
On the foe upon his track. 
I doubt not your wisdom, I! 
But will you please to tell us why? 

CUCHULAIN: Cathba the poet bites us both 
Yet neither were my folly loath 
To know your reasons, causes, ends! 
He who Emania best defends 
Must strike the foe upon the path. 
Valor besieged is throttled wrath. 

EMER: Venerable father, magic priest, 
I thank, I praise thee, I at least! 
Maugre shame and maugre pride, 
I trembled, hurrying, till there came 
Sight of Emania's walls, aflame 
With warriors of the Red Branch race, 
Like beacons, that with echoing blaze 
Run on thro' night until they join 
Into one distant lighted line. 
So serried were the sentinel ranks. 

CATHBA: Thanks, Lady Emer, for thy thanks! 
Feircetne, thy pleasant humor so 
Strikes oftener at friend than foe! 
But thou, Cuchulain, summon each 
Birth gift beyond a mortal's reach; 



Be thy nerves cold like ice plunged steel 
'Gainst what the moments may reveal; 
Be thy heart like fire aglow 
Fiercer for all the storms that blovv; 
Be thy mind's mirror clear from stain, 
That no illusion there remain; 
And all these powers bend to control 
The fortress of thy steadfast soul. 

CUCHULAIN: I will do all Cuchulain can. 

What danger threatens? Tell me, man? 

CATHBA: Thou knov^est that Meve's new armament 
Solely against thy life is bent? 

CUCHULAIN: So said Lavarcam. 

CATHBA: The Queen rests 

Not upon spears or swords or crests. 
Gaze here. 

He presents to Cuchulain a large Berylstone 
mounted so as to revolve in a ring. 

What seest thou? Aught at all? 

CUCHULAIN: I see the crystal beryl ball. 

CATHBA: Gaze deeper. Is there nothing strange? 

CUCHULAIN: The flickering beryl's splendors 
-change 
A blur; a mist comes over it! 

CATHBA: Now look! 

CUCHULAIN: Dim figures float and flit 
Like distant birds a-wing; now near 
They draw, condense and darkly clear, 
Damnable and horrible they show; 
Take back thy crystal. I'll not know 
Further. 

CATHBA: Thou'lt look on worse. Be wise; 
Picture and print them on your eyes! 

204 



CUCHULAIN: Three grisly maidens, young in years, 
But garbed in horrors, girt with fears! 
Their tresses coiling, raven black, 
Lift as alive, dart forth and back; 
With mutilated legs and arrris; 
With eyes that writhe as working charms; 
Down come they on the earth indeed. 
And crawl and hop with crutched speed. 
Now they are blotted out. 

CATHBA: 'Tis well! 

They hide them to work out their spell. 

CUCHULAIN: V/ho are they? 

CATHBA: Wizard ministers 

That Meve's great hate against thee stirs. 

CUCHULAIN: V^hat can they? 

CATHBA: Less, I hope, than I! 

CUCHULAIN: How, have they pov^er against you? 

CATHBA: Hear 

Druid wisdom, Druid lere! 

All is thought and all is dream. 

Real the world to you does seem 

In its rocky robe arrayed, 

Broidered o'er with leaf and blade. 

Belted with the ocean zone, 

Over built by clouds, wind blown. 

Real seem cities, ships and men; 

Dragon's lair and lion's den; 

Neighing horses, trumpet calls; 

The fixed flow of waterfalls. 

Yet these things stay not you know — 

Like smoke wreaths they come and go; 

Thine own love's bewitching smile 

Alters ere you feel the wile. 

Yet men choose and take with zest 

Something great and some one best. 

Great! Lift up thy looks on high! 

Splendors of the starry sky 



strike you. These are true, you feel, 

Worlds on worlds in moving reel; 

As the royal sun exceeds 

The dim earth that fills our needs, 

See beyond him mightier far 

Star on star, on star, on star — 

They are flung abroad no less 

Than in utter wantonness; 

Yet foam flecks that once a mile 

Dimple the broad ocean's smile 

Are more equal unto it 

Than to the throne room where they sit 

Are the star hosts. Were they blown 

Back to vapor, shattered, gone. 

Space would nothing know it had 

The remnants of their companies glad. 

There's the All. The great abyss 

That infinite and eternal Is; 

Thought's realm, that wrinkling here and there 

Curdles to worlds and all they bear. 

Druid magic, wizard art. 

Pierce unto this primal part; 

They can make and they can call 

Shadows from the mystic All; 

Apparitions, awe crowned ghosts; 

Haunting dreams of hurtling hosts; 

Lights of midnight or of morn; 

Seasons out of season born. 

And the wizard art of ban 

Deadly is to mortal man. 

Fear, puchulain! Now begin 

Spells of the clan Calatin. 

Now the fearful strife is on, 

Guard thee — guide thee, mighty son. 

CUCHULAIN: Tell me, Druid, how I may 
Arm me for this spirit fray. 

CATHBA: For three days their spells have power. 
Done then is their evil hour. 

206 



For three days thou must not pass 

The threshold of thy house of glass. 

Matters not what shadows rise, 

What grisly beings terrorize, 

What temptations sweet and fair 

Urge thee forth into the air; 

Firm stand and thou shalt drive them back 

And Ulster's realm redeem from wrack. 

EMER: Canst with counter charms not aid 
Cuchulain 'gainst the wizard raid? 

CATHBA: I could make him dumbly sleep 
Thro' his days of torture deep. 

CUCHULAIN: Never! Tho' all hell shall come 
It shall find my soul at home. 

CATHBA: I could in a chamber cage 
The giant action of his rage, 
Granite walled and iron barred, 
Celled and sealed, a place of ward. 
With no arms there to afford 
Exit from his prison vault! 

CUCHULAIN: Free, I'll meet the foe's assault. 
Ho, there Laeg, my armor bring, 

_ Weapons, missies — everything; 

Helmet, corselet, greaves and targe, 
Lance for the death dealing charge, 
Sword that leaps into my hand 
Like a bride at Love's command. 
Laeg brings in the armor and weapons. 

Make the glorious war pile 
Ready to hand. If wizard's wile 
Can overcome me, I will hie 
Accoutered to my destiny. 

CATHBA: Now opes the fight. I must a space 
Hence, o'er my books to pore and trace 
New charms to help thee. Who then first 
Watches with thee the evil burst 
Of magic? 

207 



EMER: I. 

CATHBA: Nay, later thou, 

When malice grows with overthrow! 

Feircetne, watch thou o'er thy friend. 

Conor and Conall will I send 

As helpers. Look ye, each and both. 

Give me your hands and swear an oath 

That thro' this house's portal ye 

Will pass not! 

CUCHULAIN AND FEIRCETNE: We swear it! 

CATHBA: Doubtfully 

I leave you. Lady Emer, pray 

in your chamber for success to-day. 

Gathha ctnd Emer go out. 

FEIRCETNE: Heigho! That's over. Whew! What 
lies! 
Faith I will learn to druidize. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou must learn first to become wise, 
Believest not omens, prophecies? 

FEIRCETNE: Not one least trivial trumpery bit. 
Wizards — sooth — Prophets — better wit 
Lies on the edges of our sv>/ords. 
Than on their lame and mumbling words. 
To dice, Cuchulain! I must have 
Excitement in this yawning grave, 
Housed with women, priests and things. 

CUCHULAIN: Ladies once had your worshippings. 

FEIRCETNE: They're good to play with in the dark, 

Pretty in Qarden or vhe park. 

But to talk, game, ride, fight with— die — 

They're nothing. They gape emptily! 

Sit, sit, Cuchulain. The dice leap out. 
CUCHULAIN: Hast money. Bard? 

FEIRCETNE: That ycu should flout! 

'Tis your fault that my luck's so hard. 
At Dundealgan, border ward — 

208 



I, at your bidding, treasures left, 

Gold, silver, open to the theft 

Of Meve and Fergus. Ha! I see 

Them fingering over covetously 

Rings, bracelets, trappings that were mine. 

CUCHULAIN: They were yours sometime! Con- 
nacht, though, 
Another ov,/ner will them owe. 

FEIRCETNE: Well, lend me somewhat for the 
game. 

CUCHULAIN: My purse Is on the table. Claim 
What part you will. 

FEIRCETNE: Cuchulain, why 

House you when war plumes darkening fly? 

Booty is to be had at will; 

The exultation and the thrill 

Of battle waits us; glorious songs 

Knock at my mind's gate in their throngs, 

And we sit here. 

iCUCHULAIN: Feircetne, save 

I know you honest, noble, brave, 
I'd say that Meve had bought you o'er 
To lure me to her. Why no more 
Than only now, Cathba did give 
Reiterate, imperative 
Warning 'gainst issuance or act — 
You for my jailer did contract. 
Think you I pine to wane at ease. 

FEIRCETNE: Well, to the dice. They're sure to 
please. 
Shall I keep score? 
Ha! what is that? 

A stranger, superhumanly tall, clad in com' 
plete armor, with face hidden, enters and stands 
ivithin the door. 
CUCHULAIN: With goggling eyes what starest 
thou at? 

209 



FEIRCETNE: Turn and behold! 

CUCHULAIN: A stranger! See, 

With his sword point he motions me 
Without! Is it a challenge? Speak! 
Thou masked intruder what dost seek? 
Again he motions as before, 
As his sword waves as if for war. 

FEIRCETNE: He answers not nor shows his face. 
His trappings show not Ulster's race. 
Some emissary he of Meve. 

CUCHULAIN: Roundly the saucy knave I'll serve. 

He picks up his sivorcl and starts towards the 
figure. 

FEIRCETNE: But hold! How could an enemy 
Here in our central fortress be? 
Thrice guarded walls and streets have been. 
A mouse could not get here unseen. 
Hark ye, Cuchulain — ill betide — 
It is the phantom prophesied! 

CUCHULAIN: Phantom or ghost I'll drive it hence. 

FEIRCETNE: Alas! it is no thing of sense 
For steel to deal with. If your wrath 
Rouses 'twill draw you down some path 
To sure destruction. Think! You are 
Forbid to pass that portal bar. 

CUCHULAIN: You are believer sudden grown, 
Feircetne. Well, what's to be done? 
Is this dumb masque, with gesturing sword. 
Our guest? Wilt seat him at our Board? 

FEIRCETNE: Resume our game. He'll disappear, 
Finding his errand useless here. 
My eye upon him I will keep. 

CUCHULAIN: My sword shall on the table sleep. 
It is thy throw. So, countest thou ten! 
Demons and damned lords of men. 
What thing is this? 

210 



They both start up ivildly as the figure strides 
forivard and strikes with his sword a ringing 
hlow on Cuchulain's shield, which is piled with 
the rest of his arms. It then retreats to the 
door, l)eekoning as before. 

Unbearable! 

Such echoing challenge ne'er did swell 

Unto Cuchulain's ear before 

But he who sent it sank in gore. 

FEIRCETNE: 'Tis but the shadow of our thought, 
The phantasy of our brains distraught; 
Like images that on a glass 
Form but if we before them pass. 
Regard it not and it will go. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou manly semblance of a foe, 
If thou art human, thou art brave 
Beyond all precedent we have; 
Glad would 1 meet with such a man. 
But know Cuchulain under ban 
May not his threshold pass. If thou 
Art a real warrior and not show. 
Armed, armored as thou art, advance. 
Here's room for all death's circumstance. 

FEIRCETNE: He answers not, but mops and mows 
There by the doorway of the house. 
Turn your back on him. He is naught. 

CUCHULAIN: A frame magnificently wrought, 
But empty shell or coward heart. 

They sit doivn again at the table. 

What was the game? 

FEIRCETNE: Let's make new start. 

As they are about to take up the dice, the 
figure strides forivard again, seizes the hex 
from them and dashes it on the floor. He re- 
treats as before. 

211 



CUCHULAIN: My heart is bursting; Insult! Deatli! 
I'll follow tho' he be a breath 
Of hell emblazoned in man's shape. 
Hold me not! Off! He will escape. 

FEIRCETNE: Your oath, Cuchulain. Think! The 
ban! 
Be for one moment more than man, 
And this impersonate dream of evil 
Will go to his creating devil. 

CUCHULAIN: Ah, still he beckons me along. 
I will resist! I will be strong! 
Thou hollow and abysmal shade, 
Back to the hideous mind that made, 
That sinewed thee, thou thing of froth, 
And puppet strung and sent thee forth. 
I will not follow. Be that word 
As final by thy sculptress heard. 
Thou can'st not move me. Best had she 
Withdraw thy useless embassy. 

FEIRCETNE: Look, look — the wavering vision 
fades! 

The figure disappears. 

CUCHULAIN: That trial was sharp. The battle 
glades 
Of Moy Muirtheimne knew no stress 
Or exercises to equal this. 

FEIRCETNE: Well, Wizard art and Druid lere 
Have my respect henceforth — and fear. 
Care you to dice more? * 

CUCHULAIN: No, your harp! 

My mind o'erstrained, tense and sharp. 
With tranquilizing sound and song 
To lower levels lead along. 

As Feircetne prepares his harp, the daylight 
dims until the room is in utter darkness. 

212 



CUCHULAIN: A sudden twilight fall is this! 
Has the sun sunk in some abyss? 

FEIRCETNE: 'Tis the enemy again! Prepare! 

CUCHULAIN: Order us lights. 

FEIRCETNE: Ha! lights are there! 

In the background there appears an illumi- 
nated circle, on which gradually comes out a 
rock in the ocean, isolated, surf beaten, to 
which two men are clinging. 

CUCHULAIN: 'Tis a new mummery, indeed! 

FEIRCETNE: But, Cuchulain, dost thou heed 
Those faces, forms? 'Tis thou and I 
Cling there beneath a blazing sky. 
Storm beaten, bruised, fevered, mad, 
Divested of what might we had. 

CUCHULAIN: Familiar they, but what of it 
We are here, I hope, and hurt no whit. 

FEIRCETNE: See my poor hands I lift to shed 
Some little shade upon my head. 
Baked, blistered by the blazing sun. 
My body writhes almost undone — 
To my parched lips my tongue does cleave, 
That can no help give or receive! 

CUCHULAIN: And I! My shaftlike form erect, 
O'ertopples, broken, shattered, wrecked; 
Down to the water's edge I creep 
And lap the saltness of the deep. 
Oh, horrible nausea In my throat! 

FEIRCETNE: On mine own flesh my eyes do gloat; 
Upon my arm my teeth I set; 
I taste, I drink — ah, nothing yet — 
The dry fount yields no foaming flood. 

CUCHULAIN: Ah, give me, too, to drink of blood! 

FEIRCETNE: Help! Water! We must drink or 
die! 

213 



The picture disappears suddenly, and before 
them hovers in the air a salver heaped with 
delicious fruits, and with gohlets of loine and 
pitchers of foaming mead. 

Saved! See what freshness gloriously 
Waits on our peril sheer and stark. 

They move toivards the salver, which slowly 
withdraws before them. 

CUCHULAIN: Seems the feast shifts here in the 
dark. 

FEIRCETNE: Oh, haste! Oh, stumble not! I first 
Will reach the wine and slake my thirst. 

CUCHULAIN: Halt thou, Feircetne! Here's the 
door. 
This is imposture as before! 

FEIRCETNE: I care not! I that drink must have; 
'Tis succor tho' the devils gave. 
I go. 

He rushes out. The salver remains station- 
ary before Guchulain. 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! be that phantom wine, 
Grew those grapes on no earthy vine? 
I'll test them. Any change must ease 
My intolerable agonies. 

7s about to follow Feircetne lohen Emer en- 
ters in the dark. 

EMER: Cuchulain! 

CUCHULAIN: Emer! 

EMER: Art thou here? 

CUCHULAIN: Aye, here! 

EMER: What means this night of fear 

Wherein thou art hidden? What that gleam. 
The banquet of a wizard's dream? 
214 



CUCHULAIN: Thou hast saved me! Phantom feast 
be gone, 
I am sane! Thou temptst not! Serve where 
born! 

The vision disappears, the darkness lifts and 
a flood of sunlight fills the room. 

EMER: What of horror has happed 

Here in the hall since I went? 
CUCHULAIN: Emer, sit by my side, 

Cherish my head on thy breast, 

Let thy warm, thrilling touch 

Fill me with courage anew, 

Thrill me with comfort of life. 

Tyrannous terrors have struck 

Chill to his heart thou hast saved; 

See, Feircetne is gone, 

Maddened, breaking his oath; 

Driven by anguish abroad. 
EMER: Dear to a wife is such word. 

Well could she give up her life 

Helping her husband in stress. 

Oh, my hero, my god! 
CUCHULAIN: Hardly a hero would he 

Show in the sight of the world. 

But by a woman's call kept 

From breaking honor and oath; 

Needing the wine of her kiss, 

Needing her touch to retune 

The unstrung chords of his heart. 
EMER: Glorious, greater again 

Shall thou gleam forth in thy might. 

The ordeal is over perchance. 

Certain not from thy side 

Will I stir till it ends; 

Facing the evil with thee. 
CUCHULAIN: Respite at least is allowed. 

I have regathered my strength, 

Doom of the wizards to dare. 
215 



As they sit silent, noises begin to come from 
without, muffled at first, then clearer. 

Hark! What noise from without? 
Muffled marching of men, 
Clank of armor and arms, 
Officers' ordering cries, 
Neighing and stamping of steeds, 
Chariots roll on the road; 
Surely the camp is astir, 
Surely the captains march out. 
Maimed by my promise must I, 
Gyved like a guest of the grave, 
Sit while my brothers in arms 
Like eagles plume them for flight. 
Like lions leap to the fray. 

The noise dies down. 

EMER: *Tis but the muster of men, 
Conor's review of the camp. 
That is nothing to thee. 
Hero who not with the horde 
Goes attended to fight. 
Hewing thy terrible path 
Single, awful, alone! 
Thro' the mass of thy enemies' men. 
Remote from the ranks of thy friends. 

The noise grows louder and u 7ningled with 
shouts and battle cries. 

CUCHULAIN (starts up): Ha! it is more, it is more! 
My nostrils take in the scent 
Taint of blood on the air. 
Battle is on — they are met. 
Hear ye not hissing of shafts, 
Hurling of spears in their flight. 
Clash of steel upon steel, 
Groans of the wounded, that die 
'Neath the feet of the horses and wheels? 
Hear ye not trumpets that sound 
Challenge and order to charge? 
216 



Hear ye not thunder of feet, 
Battle shouts bandied about? 
"Ulster!" ''Ulster!" they cry; 
''Connacht, back to the breach." 
Conor's own slogan I hear; 
Answering peal of Mac Roigh. 
I can stand it no more, 
Arm I must for the fray. 
Laeg, Laeg. Ho, Squire 
Charioteer—dost thou lag? 
Sleepest while the battle awakes? 
Hurry! 

Enter Laeg. 

Help me, I say. 

Clothe me in armor complete! 

Laeg, loith ETiiefs tremttling assistance, arms 
Cuchulain. 

The tumult trebles without! 

My iron pointed shoes and my greaves! 

Emer — ha, dost thou help? 

White dove dressing a hawk! 

Nsw my corselet of steel, 

Burnished to blaze o'er the strife. 

Glad from thy hand I receive, 

Emer, my helmet of brass 

Plumed with ominous red. 

Laeg, my target and spear! 

Bare my blade from its sheath! 

See, I rush on the foe! 

During this scene the noises from without 
are redouhled. 

EMER: I have helped thee to arm. 

For seems it the battle draws near. 
And this house thou must hold; 
Aid I not thee to go forth, 
For the omen hangs o'er thy head. 
Think of thine oath and the ban. 

217 



CUCHULAIN: Foolish child, full of fears, 
What matters omen or ban 
When the tumult is here on our step? 
Wouldst have me die on my hearth, 
Dragged like a wolf from its hole? 
Emer, dearest, unwind 
The weight of thy wonder white arms! 
Hold me no more, I must go! 

He throivs her oft, but she reaches the door 
first and stands, with her arms outstretched, 
against it. 

EMER: Only over me here 

Shalt thou escape from my charge; 

Crush me under thy heel. 

Send me a herald before 

To light thy path thro' the dark 

Of death and doom that besiege; 

Other way I stir not. 

CUCHULAIN: Loyal, oh, royal wife! 
Art thou to me, a man. 
Loyal less to my fame? 
Back to thy chamber and there 
Study, dream the caress 
Thou will give when I come 
Flushed from the field of the war; 
In victory vanquished by thee. 
Go, in gentleness, go. 

EMER: Never, Cuchulain, before 
Stood I opposed to thy will. 
I have sent thee to fight. 
All my heart in thy breast; 
Chrism of kisses have pressed 
On thy armor and spear and glaive; 
But now an instinct of gloom 
Keeps me guard at this gate 
'Gainst thy fatal outrush. 

CUCHULAIN: Pass. I have paltered enough. 
218 



As he seizes her the door opens and Cathha 
and Conall Gearnach enter. 

CATHBA: Ha! Cuchulain; thou art here! 
We are breathless in our fear; 
For, Feircetne, we have met 
Wandering, dazed and dreaming yet, 
And what words he could vouchsafe 
Hurried us hopeless here. But safe 
Standest thou, hero, firm and stout 
Victor o'er the wizard rout. 

CUCHULAIN: I am here. But how seem ye, 
Heralds of tranquility; 
In habiliments of peace, 
At the top of strife, at ease? 
Conall, thou wert ever wont 
To be in the battle front; 
Cathba, by the King's side, thou 
Shouldst stand to guide the battle prow. 
Arm ye, haste, — I cannot wait. 
Fears my soul I am too late. 

CONALL: Why should we arm? What battle's on 
That thou art in caparison? 

CUCHULAIN: Why all about ye, whence ye came. 
War wraps Emania in its flame: 
Saw ye not? Hear ye not those cries, 
War's thunder and its agonies? 

CATHBA: I hear them. Oh, the mockeries! 
This is the wizard's third device. 
Be calm, Cuchulain. Quiet stands 
Emania 'mid its peaceful lands. 
By wizard skill thou art abused, 
Enchanted arms alone are loosed. 

CUCHULAIN: I'll not believe it! 

Rushes to the door and throws it wide open. 



There's the proof! 

See that line that hangs aloof. 



219 



Frontage like a forest shown 
On the hills around the town, 
Muster and the march of men. 
Thick as headed wheat is when 
Sickles glisten — they descend; 
Pennons stream and banners blend; 
Plumes nod like one line of sea; 
Armored downward to the knee 
Move they like a crystal wall, 
And earth trembles under all. 
Meve herself the centre leads, 
Warrior tho' of blackest deeds; 
Fergus marshals the left wing, 
Ulster's glorious exile King; 
And all the Seven Maines' might 
Is concentred on the right; 
They come, they thunder at the gate; 
They pour within, they win, they wait! 
Seest thou, Cathba — seest thou all? 
Wilt thou let Emania fall? 

CATHBA: By thy side, as well as thee, 
I the torturing vision see; 
Such the potent magic charm; 
But me it does not lure to harm. 
Arm nor armies round us meet; 
Imposture this and counterfeit. 

CUCHULAIN: Oh, 'tis not possible! Wil't swear, 
Cathba, there are no armies there? 

CATHBA: I swear, Cuchulain. From thy home, 
From Dundealgan word Is come 
That Meve is camped there — that thy halls 
Blaze nightly with her festivals. 

CUCHULAIN: Is it so? Does sense so fare. 
Drugged by the visionary ware? 
Look to it, Cathba. Thrice the three 
Have almost had their will of me! 

CATHBA: They to-day have finished. 
But I fear their workings dread 



Another and another day. 

Hark, Cuchulain, far away, 

Where the fairy folk abide, 

Furrowed in a mountain side, 

Is a valley, hidden deep, 

Sacred to silences and sleep, 

Lost to tradition or to tale, 

And men call it the Deaf Vale. 

So shrouded 'tis from sun or star. 

So sheltered from all sounds that are. 

Earth's secretest, securest spot, 

It is on earth as it were not. 

Rocks o'erhang and trees o'erwhelm 

This withdrav/n and sunken realm; 

Branched boles above it meet. 

And below the walls retreat; 

Rugged wild the entrance place 

Shows not on the mountain face; 

Hollowly within the scene 

Opens, mossed in sloping green. 

Midday is as morning there; 

Sifted thro' the twilight air 

Of the intertangled trees 

The speckled sunlight flits and flees, 

And the torches of the moon 

Vivid gleam and vanish soon. 

Lapses a stream from pool to pool. 

Scarcely ruffled, dark and cool. 

There to-night, Cuchulain, I 

Will take thee with a company. 

Warriors, poets, men of grace, 

The best of all the Red Branch race; 

Girls more glorious still than these 

Emania's maiden goddesses: 

These shall cherish thee and cheer 

And keep thee from the wizard fear. 

Emer, Conall, quick begin! 

Cheat we the clan Calatin. 



221 



SCENE 4. 

A rocky amphitheatre at the entrance to the 
Deaf Valley. Great boulders, interspersed with 
trees and bushes, heaped about. On one side a 
towering pinnacle of rock, on the other the en- 
trance to the valley veiled with trees. Sunset. 
Igloia enters. 

IGLOIA: Like a drifting thistle borne 
On the wind's back I have gone 
Over Ulster's broad domain, 
Seeking our vanished prey again. 
Every moment of each hour 
Of this midday of our power 
I have pried and I have spied 
Into cities, countryside, 
Castles, cottages and caves; 
Fields and forests, even the waves 
Have peered in to find the Knight 
Hid by Cathba's art from sight. 
Hovering o'er this wildered place 
I this moment thought to trace 
Figure moving, shrilling nigh; 
Like a war horse, shape and cry. 
I've descended. Is it gone? 
See! a path leads on and on 
Thro' walled trees that wider ope. 
Shielded by a forest cope 
A glimmering valley inward leads, 
And the horse there calmly feeds. 
Liath 'tis, Cuchulain's steed! 
All is gained and good indeed, 
For the master bideth near. 
Now to call my sisters here. 

She retraces her steps, with her crutches' 
help, and climbs to the top of the rocky pinna- 
cle, and perched there scans the sky. 

222 



Sisters, sisters, where ye be. 
Over land or over sea, 
Floating, fluttering, be my word 
By your apprehension heard! 
Come, approach, draw near, appear, 
Ulla, Eithe! Hallo! Here! 

Eithe appears around a corner of the rock. 

EITHE: Far off, remote, I heard my name. 
Launched like a lightning flash I came. 
Hast found him? 

IGLOIA: How? And have not you? 

EITHE: Scent of hound upon the dew. 
Sight of eagle from the blue, 
Track not Cuchulain, guarded true. 

IGLOIA: He is found. I claim the prize! 

EITHE: Thou shalt feast first on his eyes. 
Ha! Ha! and Cathba vanquished is. 

IGLOIA: Not yet have we won our bliss. 
Here comes Ulla! 
Enter Ulla. 

ULLA: Sisters! here! 

So, the carrion must be near. 

IGLOIA: All thy quest was then in vain. 

ULLA: Traversing the skyey plain, 
I have travelled far and wide, 
But Cuchulain safe does hide. 

IGLOIA: He is here. Thy journeys end. 
Ulla, Eithe, come, descend! 

They clatter down the rocks to the level 
space. 

Tremble, Cuchulain, in thy lair, 
Vengeance's minirters are here. 
By Muirtheimne's blood red plain. 
By our father, brothers is slain, 

223 



By ourselves, whose horrors freeze, 

Mutilated mockeries, 

We thy doom and death declare. 

ULLA: So, Igloia, do I swear. 

Yet he 'scaped us yesterday. 
Art thou surer now of sway? 

IGLOIA: I am all — exulting sure. 
Left there is a-many a lure — 
Thro' the twilight and the mirk 
We must prepare them. So, to work. 

EITHE: You are mistress of this scene. 
Order us, oh, wizard Queen! 

IGLOIA: Ulla, all, yon streamlet breeds 
Willow wands and stalky reeds. 
On its bank at every turn, 
Stores, too, of fantastic fern 
Dankly flourish. Fetch us here 
Armfuls of such needed gear. 

Ulla goes under the trees towards the en- 
trance of the vale. 

EITHE: What must I do? 

IGLOIA: See this stone 

Rounded from its rolling on, 
Many and many a one like this 
Gather, gather! 

EITHE: Easy 'tis. 

Look, I send one to thee down! 

Like hail they're on the hillside strown. 

IGLOIA: Good, oh, girl! 

EITHE: Another yet. 

And another follows it! 

IGLOIA: More. These stones thou wakest to life 
Shall stir in a greater strife. 

EITHE: Hast enough? 

224 



IGLOIA: Aye, so I think! 

Here comes Ulla from the brink 
Of the crystal glassy Vv-ave 
With the riches which it gave. 

ULLA: What's to do now— what's to do? 

IGLOiA: First arrange this stony crew 
In a disordered company. 
As tho' halted, bridle free. 
So. Now, sisters, sit ye here: 
Braid and broider, mould and make 
Manikins we may awake, 
Riders for this troop of horse 
Rocking, ready for the course. 
Peel the willow wands that white 
Show men like for maids' delight; 
Set them crutched, fastened on 
Each upbounding steed of stone; 
Give them now their battle gear. 
Stalks for sword and reed for spear; 
Let fern a dozen forms assume. 
Cloak and banner, shield and plume! 

They busy themselves in their task, sitting in 
a circle on the ground. 

ULLA: See, my Knight is prettiest! 

EITHE: Nay, this one is garbed best; 
For my kerchief I have torn; 
Lace and silver mantle worn. 
Make him a brave gentleman. 

ULLA: This one is leader of the clan. 
Red the ribbon is that shows 
Waving o'er his vizored brows. 
Thoro' tourney, thoro' fight. 
My favors he shall bear aright. 

EITHE: See, but this one is more grand; 
My ring I place upon his hand. 
He shall woo me when he can. 
Wilt thou not, my gentleman? 

225 



ULLA: 

Dandling one of the manikins on her lap. 

Oh, my dolly! Oh, my child! 
Rock thee on my bosom wild; 
On my tempest shaken breast 
Sweetly smile and sweetly rest; 
Close thy tender eyes in sleep, 
Love o'er thee a watch shall keep; 
Mother's brooding fold thee in. 
Safe from sorrow, pain, or sin. 

IGLOIA: Cease your prattle good, my dears, 
Ere our purpose melt in tears! 
From self pity naught is won 
Save a hate to urge us on. 

EITHE: Well, all's finished, we have made 
A most gallant cavalcade. 

IGLOIA: Ready, ready for the morn. 
Where as men ye must be born. 
Wait ye puppets! By our spell 
Ye shall rise and ye shall swell; 
Bones and flesh of warriors take; 
Swords shall brandish, spears shall shake; 
And your horses underneath 
Shall stride on with fiery breath. 
Ours your energies that thrill; 
Ours your purpose, ours your will. 
Ye shall shout and ye shall laugh. 
Talk, weep — all — ye things of chaff; 
Apparitions, shades of naught. 
Less than ghosts, a wizard's thought, 
Wholly human shall you seem: 
Life shall accept the empty dream. 
Ye shall wander as we choose. 
Ways and walks of mortals use, 
And shall at last Cuchulain bring 
To his deadly reckoning. 

EITHE: Is there more to do? 



IGLOIA: Why, yes; 

It may be these images 

Fail us at last. Another lure 

Get we ready to make sure. 

ULLA: Choose which one, oh, sister skilled! 

IGLOIA: A beacon like a Belfire build! 
Scatter, scatter to and fro; 
Bushes on this hillside grow; 
Branches lie 'neath yonder trees, 
Windfalls, the storm's charities; 
By the gnarled streamlet cast 
Logs are there that long will last; 
Gather, gather, bring them all, 
A pile, prodigious, funeral. 
Between these mighty boulders here 
Build we for Cuchulain's cheer. 

They scatter about their ivork, soon appear- 
ing with their liurdens. 

EITHE: Like a moving mountain, I 
Feel my fringes touch the sky! 

ULLA: This great fragment of a tree 
Trails to our festivity! 

IGLOIA (calling): Here's a log fit for our hearth, 
I cannot move it from the earth. 
Ulla, Eithe, help me! So. 
This will flame and this will glow 
Hours on hours. Let it crush 
Downward on the heap of brush! 
Now more brush, more branches, higher 
Than the hills shall soar our fire. 

EITHE (bringing more brush): 

Hallo! Hallo! we'll signal far. 

ULLA: Hallo! Hallo! we'll wake the war. 

IGLOIA: What burn we in this blazing mesh? 

ULLA AND EITHE: Cuchulain's flesh! Cuchulain's 
flesh! 

227 



IGLOIA: That will do, the rest can wait 
Till the sun opes to-morrow's gate. 

ULLA: If we are done to-night with charms 
Let's sleep in one another's arms. 
There, thro' yon trees, roofed overhead 
I saw a hollowed mossy bed, 
So sweet, so soft, so deep with ease 
That sleep shall kiss us into peace. 
There let us lie down and forget 
A little and a little yet. 

IGLOIA: What girl the entrance past where he 
Abideth, our great enemy? 
No hospitality at all. 
We suffer in Cuchulain's hall! 
Rather outside here on the rocks 
Wake and watch down the starry flocks. 
Couch here, and whispering thro' the night 
Our long remembered woes recite, 
And keep our hate and hopes more keen. 
To hail to-morrow's deadly scene. 



SCENE 5. 

A glade in the Deaf Valley. Great boles reach 
upward and roof the place. The sunlight flick- 
ers down through the leaves on sward and 
stream. Cuchulain lies asleep and Emer 
watches over him. 

EMER: Oh, how I bless this abode — 
Reticent, retired, remote. 
Shielded; safely secure. 
Murmur musical brook, 



Threading this dream vale thro'! 
Sing on your summits above 
All ye secretest birds! 
Birds and brook ye alone 
Know the egress, the path 
Into, out of this vale! 
Neither will ye confess, 
But will help me to guard 
Here my hero, my king. 

CUCHULAIN (stirring in his sleep) : Bat wings away! 

EMER: Ha! dark 

Phantoms throng in his sleep; 
Banished troubles intrude. 
His brow is knitted — his arms 
Mightily toss to and fro. 

CUCHULAIN: Scarlet and grisly snakes! 

EMER: The wizards press on his dream! 
Better that he were awake. 
Wake, Cuchulain; arise! 

CUCHULAIN: Where am I? Emer! The Vale! 

EMER: What fear foughtest thou but now? 

CUCHULAIN: Horrors indefinite. I 
Hardly know them to name; 
Something gripped at my throat; 
But they are past — they are blown 
Back by the breath of this morn; 
Lost in this beauty about. 

EMER: Canst thou, Cuchulain, content 
Thy great soul with this place? 

CUCHULAIN: Emer, the innermost dream 
Of the world worn fighter is peace. 
Combat, conquering, come 
At the last to mean nothing to him; 
Wizards toil and turmoil. 
Empty appearances, such 
As to us lately uprose, 



That is the tale of this life. 
Training, ambitions, desires, 
Foot to foot struggle in strife, 
Charge exultant, the cry 
Of poets clashing one's name, 
All is but twisted breath. 
Changing shapes that we see 
Flash and die in the flame. 
Oft at the summit of strife, 
With the shoutings sounding around, 
I have wished that with one 
Dear and deeply desired 
White wreath woman of snow, 
I could be lost in some isle 
Sunk where the sun goes down; 
There would I build our abode, 
Fish and hunt for our food, 
And the horrible haunts of men 
Visit not, know not again; 
There with towering dreams 
Would I create anew 
Visions of perfected worlds. 
And to that wife pouring out, 
She who shared my sole throne. 
The large designs of my thought, 
I would claim her caress as reward. 
Nothing is real but rest, 
Rest and the moulding of dreams. 
EMER: Ha! and let but a spear 

Shake in the wind, or a shield 
Clash as it turns on the wall, 
Up thou startest afire. 
No. Cuchulain, I trust 
Little thy peaceful presage. 
Listen: Two days have passed 
Of the reign of the wizards' spells. 
But now a third is to come. 
Here seem we safe and forgot, 
But promise me, promise me, thou. 
Thou wilt not arm or go forth. 



Save that I give to thee leave, 
Save that I ask it of thee. 
Turn not away, for thy hand 
Holding I'll twist it till pain 
Forces the promise from thee. 

CUCHULAIN: Something may come to compel! 

EMER: Then will I bid thee to go; 
Pretexts palter in vain — 
Promise, promise and kiss. 

CUCHULAIN: Well, as thou wilt. 'Tis a day 
Only. Then out on Meve 
Hurl I headlong. I swear 
Not for to to-day to go forth, 
Save that thou orderest so. 

EMER: Who, Cuchulain is she 

In whose beleaguering arms 
You'd hold the world off — at bay? 

CUCHULAIN: You, you, white witch— by far 
Worse than those wizards who drive 
Me, a warrior, to earth. 

A Jiunting horn sounds without. 

EMER: Hark! the hunt is at hand! 

Enter Conall Cearnach, Aithirne, Sencha, 
Ere, with other of the Ultonians. With them 
is a young warrior whose face is hidden to the 
eyes by helmet and vizor. Four attendants 
bear in a dead boar. 

CONALL: Hail, Cuchulain! 

SENCHA: Warrior, hail. 

AITHIRNE: My knee to Lady Emer! 

EMER: Rise, 

Poet of gold locks and blue eyes! 

CUCHULAIN: Heartily welcome one and all. 
Ye stir soon as for festival. 

231 



CONALL: One has stirred still earlier; 
Hence this bristly loaded bier. 
Aithirne, you're best qualified, 
With flourishes of praiseful pride, 
With chanted words and ordered verse j 

This morn's adventure to rehearse. 

AITHIRNE: Needs no art, but simple truth. 
Chieftain, you owe unto this youth 
A gold wrought cup engraved o'er 
With crimson scenes of hunt and war, 

CUCHULAIN: Killed he the boar that held at bay 
All our science yesterday? 

AITHIRNE: Aye, in this manner. You last night, 
In middle of our feast's delight, 
Pledged your drinking cup to him 
Who should slay the monster grim, 
Lurking in the highest glen, 
And of this vale sole citizen. 
So this morn while still the shades 
Camped thick in these underglades, 
A number of us armed and went 
On the grisly battle bent. 
Blundering thro' the blackness so 
Baffled by trees set thick a-row, 
By boulders that a-sudden rose 
Out of the darkness to oppose, 
We climbed on till we neared the place 
Where the boar sank and left no trace 
Before our yesterday's pursuit. 
There thro' the silence absolute 
Suddenly rose a bursting crash, 
And at that moment one wide flash, 
As the whole quiver of the sun 
Were emptied, blazed there, and lit on. 
A slender figure, war arrayed 
Set in the centre of the glade. 
Leaning, with couched spear, before 
The charging of the foam flecked boar. 
232 



See! The spear in the creature's side 

Snaps. With the force the boy flings wide 

At mercy of the wheeling thing. 

But, no! His sword goes glittering 

To the hilt buried in its heart. 

Such is the tale, Prince, I impart. 

Lo, the victor bring we here. 

Praise him; and yield him the gold gear. 

CUCHULAIN: Excellent! Youth, 'twas nobly done. 
The cup is thine and fairly won. 
Now let us know thy name and face. 

THE STRANGER: Pardon, Prince, if a little space 
I hide both. Here in Cathba's train, 
A novice whom he took to train, 
I came. He bade me modestly 
Keep in the shade, unknown, till he 
Returned, and brought me forth to light. 

CUCHULAIN: Deeds and voice avouch thy right 
To be among the brave and best. 
Use thy own choice unknown to rest. 

The ladies of Emer's court, Nuarda, Comma, 
Grainne and others enter hurriedly. 

AITHIRNE: Now the scattered stars unite 
That shone separate thro' the night, 
Mingling each despised ray 
So to make a dazzling day. 

NUARDA: Lady Emer, lovely wife 
Of the lord of death and life. 
Sad the news we have to bring. 
The best jewel of thy ring. 
Fairest of thy circling girls, 
Niam of the rippling curls. 
From our arms and from her bed 
Flies, is lost, is vanished! 

EMER: Niam missing! How and when? 
She cannot sure have left the glen! 



NUARDA: Last night was she blithe and bold, 

But this morn her couch Is cold. 
EMER: Have you sought her? 
NUARDA: Long and late 

Down unto the entrance gate, 

Niam, Niam — calling out; 

But there came no answering shout. 

Sign or presence. She is gone! 
EMER: Who was her last companion? 
NUARDA: Grainne loved her, knew her best. 
EMER: Had she unto you confessed, 

Grainne, any new intent 

Of flight or friends' abandonment? 
GRAINNE: Nothing. Yet she has been strange. 

Quick her mind in roving range 

Changed from sadness unto mirth. 

And her laughter scarce had birth 

Ere it checked itself with tears. 

Oftenest her prattle filled our ears 

Of heroes' bravery, and most 

Of Cuchulain, of our host; 

Telling o'er his feats and fame. 

Dwelling on his mighty name. 

Last night, saucier, gayer, she 

Hinted at some mystery. 

And with air of wistful spite 

Kissed and bade me a good night. 

But the morning when I rose 

By her bed I found her clothes; 

Nothing needful had she ta'en — 

She is stolen — she is slain. 
EMER (to the strange warrior): Young hero, 

hither come to me! 
THE STRANGER: Here I bow upon my knee! 

As he lends over Emer suddenly removes 
his hclviet and reveals the head and down rip- 
pling tresses of a girl. 
OMNES: Niam! Niam! 

234 



EMER: Do not, dear, 

Quite in your blushes disappear. 
CUCHULAIN: Glorious maiden! Was it thou 

Made the boar before thee bow? 
AITHIRNE: Voice of praise or wings of song 

Lift and bear thy fame along. 

Maiden's form and woman's mind, 

Warrior's heart in thee we find. 

Connacht boasts the force of Meve; 

Ulster has a girl more brave, 

Maugre wicked wizard art. 

Fair of face and pure of heart. 

Hail thou goddess among girls 

Hiding in thy rippling curls! 
CUCHULAIN: Let us in unto the feast! 

Be my gift with gems increased. 

She at the board enthroned high 

Shall rule to-day's festivity. 
Exeunt Omnes. 



SCENE 6. 

A rude hall hewn out of the solid rock. Pil- 
lars of rock, open hetween, support the rear. 
On one side a great fireplace. Arms are hung 
adout the walls of the place. Seated at han- 

quet are all the Ultonians in the Deaf Valley. 
Niam has the place of honor on Cuchulain's 
right. 
EMER: Topic thou of every tongue, 

Theme of song by poets sung, 

Lady, you above us ride. 

Sparkling, buoyant in your pride. 

235 



NIAM: Out, alas, an arrow sent, 
Far into the firmament, 
Loosened from some hero's string 
Soon to fail — a broken thing. 

CUCHULAIN: Would Feircetne were here, too, 
Words and strings to woo for you! 

EMER: how, Aithirne, do you place 
The Head OIlav of our race? 

AITHIRNE: Feircetne is the first of all. 
His firm paced verses fall 
Like the trampling of the steeds 
Marching down to battle deeds; 
His great music moves behind 
Like the spirits of the wind 
Gathering up the Autumn leaves. 
Marshalling the Autumn eves. 

CONALL: He sings women less than war. 
Dreams he of the hurled car, 
And the missile's rattling rain. 
And the sword blade's glorious stain. 

CUCHULAIN: How, Aithirne, do you rate 
The best things of mortal state? 
Food and wine, the things of sense. 
Women's smiles, song, eloquence, 
Action in heroic guise. 
Midmost battle exercise. 

AITHIRNE: Earliest, simplest, surest good 
Is the primal gift of food. 
Wine the blood's torch is that sends 
Man to high or desperate ends. 
Wit and eloquence, to those 
All our mortal business goes. 
Action on the foughten field, 
That is man's protecting shield. 
Woman's smiles; but thro' them we 
Hold happiness and hope in fee; 
They link the future and the past; 
By them alone the world does last. 
236 



Every gift and every grace 

In our mortal life has place; 

But more universal far 

The dream domains of poets are; 

All earthy things they recreate 

Superior to decrees of fate. 

We soon pass who here do sit; 

Fades our glow and fails our wit. 

Save the poet shall ye arm — 

Wielding his word forgeries. 

Lady Emer, all thy charm, 

All thy strength, Cuchulain, dies. 

A noise as of trampling of horses is heard 
without, then a hurst of laughter. The Ulto- 
nians start in confused alar7n. 
CONALL: The enemy! 
ERC: To arms! 
SENCHA: No, knell, 

No warning from the sentinel! 
CUCHULAIN (who has remained quietly seated): 

Calm, be calm, friends. Well I know 

This stale and reiterate show. 

At last the wizards find us out. 

Resume the banquet! All their rout 

Is harmless if we make it so. 
CONALL: Art sure, Cuchulain? To and fro 

Horses and men marched. 
CUCHULAIN: Dreams, but dreams 

More evanescent than moonbeams. 

Seat yourselves all! 

They are ahout to resume their places when 
again is heard the stamping of horses and the 
talking and laughter of men. They hesitate 
and stare about them. 
SENCHA: I am old; 

Wizard art and work untold 

I have witnessed. Spells can weave 

Wonders. Yet I scarce believe, 

237 



Save upon Cuchulain's word, 

Empty are those sounds we heard. 
CUCHULAIN: In its nature fugitive 

Only altering can it live, 

The dark art of wizard charm. 

i pledge you there needs no alarm. 
The sounds again, louder and nearer. 
ERC: I am young, and nothing can 

Bear in me the heart of man. 

And sit silent, listening yet, 

So beleaguered and beset. 

Chief, permit me that I go 

Scout without and find the foe. 

Or, failing, dissipate the ghosts 

Gathering round in grisly hosts. 

CUCHULAIN: It is needless. Yet 'tis known 
The warning was for me alone! 
Go and see what sights you may. 

Ere takes his sword and shield from the wall 
and goes out. The rest seat themselves douM- 
fully and depressedly. 

Sencha, thy wisdom is awry. 

Magic more wonderful thou hast 

Met and vanquished in the past. 

The Bridge of Cliffs at Scathach's home — 

Does not that memory to thee come. 

SENCHA: Ha! that vision of my youth! 

Broad the causeway seemed in sooth; 
Built above a gulf where sight 
Lost Itself in downward flight; 
Smooth to any that essayed; 
But the first trial that he made 
Grew it narrow as a hair 
Hanging o'er the abysm there; 
And the next its length did pinch 
To an isolated inch; 
And at the third it slippery grew 
As an eel your hand slides thro'; 

238 



And the last it stood up high, 
Like a mast to touch the sky. 
Yes, I grant that thing was far 
Stranger than these voices are. 

Re-enter Ere. 

ERC: Rise, ye men of Ulster, rise! 
Meve's outlying companies 
Have this hillside, hold this vale. 
Thro' the firs, whose sweeping pale 
Hides this house, I crept a-near 
Where the stream goes in the clear; 
There in groups and companies 
Men stood, lounged, in armed ease; 
Horses of the streamlet drank, 
Or grazed the grass upon the bank; 
And the warriors talked and laught. 
Broke their food or flagons quaffed; 
Farther, glinting in the sun. 
Saw I helmets many a one 
'Mid the foliage stretching straight 
Down unto the entrance gate. 
There's a force to overwhelm 
This secure and secret realm. 
We are taken, save we burst 
On them and surprise them first. 
Lead, Cuchulain, lead us forth! 

CUCHULAIN: Learn, oh. Ere, how little worth 
Are our gifts of use and wont 
When the wizards us confront! 
Thou hast seen, hast heard it all. 
But visions apparitional 
Are these figures that assume 
Form to lure me to my doom. 

CONALL: But, Cuchulain, it may be 
They are a real enemy. 
Were it not better sally out, 
End the fear and end the doubt. 

239 



SENCHA: Yet before we venture so — 

Do you, Conall, 'mid them go? 

Wise, experienced, circumspect. 

You Erc's vision may correct. 
CONALL: Be tliey devils, be they men, 

I'll prove them ere I come again. 

Co7iall takes Ms arms and goes out. Era 
moves about among the other loarriors. 

ERC: Arm, Aithirne! Niall, arm! 
Ready be for the alarm. 
Conall's voice must echo mine: 
Thick the foes about us twine. 
Arm thee, Sencha! Be not ta'en, 
By this hearth defenceless slain. 
We must front and face the fact, 
Tho' Cuchulain will not act. 

The warriors take their arms from the wall 
and gather together near the entrance of the 
hall. Cuchulain looks on in silence. Emer 
kneels by his side. 

EMER: Oh, my hero, keep thy plight. 

This is not thy hour to fight. 

Let no adjurations lure 

Thy soul, unalterably sure. 

To arm thee on this wizard day. 

Soon will it pass, and then the fray 

Shall know the battle thunderbolt. 
CUCHULAIN: And these youngsters they revolt! 

They would teach that have not learned. 

They would eat that have not earned. 
Re-enter Conall with his sword dripping with 

blood. 

CONALL: Up, Cuchulain! 
CUCHULAIN: What hast there? 
CONALL: Blood that thro' a man did fare! 
CUCHULAIN: Blood! 

240 



EMER: Thy promise, hero! 

CUCHULAIN: Peace! 

CONALL: Listen! On my errand out, 
Half assured and half in doubt, 
Went I. Crept I thro' the firs, 
Saw the scene and characters, 
Saw the very things, in short, 
Pictured thee in Erc's report. 
Men and horses and more men 
Glancing farther down the glen. 
Yet I thought that all might be 
But illusions, mockery. 
Then a warrior near me strayed 
From his fellows in the glade. 
Waited I until he past 
The veil of foliage 'twixt us cast. 
And a-sudden by the throat 
Seized him. Thro' his corselet, coat. 
Body, swept my lightning blade. 
He nor cry nor signal made. 
There I left him. Here's the proof 
Thou canst no more hang aloof. 

CUCHULAIN: Blood! Perchance that, too, is feigned. 

ERC: On, oh, heroes! Naught is gained, 
Waiting on Cuchulain's doubt. 

SENCHA: Be convinced, Cuchulain. Out 
Burst upon our ring of foes! 
Be thy glorious self. Oppose 
Hounds that drive thee to the earth. 
Wilt thou wait till on thy hearth 
Die these women by the sword. 
Or are taken Connacht-ward? 
Thou who drove an army can 
Beat them downward, man by man. 
These few estrays that are come 
Seeking their eternal doom. 
Be thou guided. Arm! And forth 
Lead these leaders of the North. 

241 



CUCHULAIN: Dare ye, men of Ulster, deem 
That I halt at any stream 
Deep or wide or thick of blood? 
Never enemy made good 
His name at Cuchulain's cost. 
If I go, then Ulster's lost! 
Well I know ye are abused; 
Well I know that fiends are loosed 
Round about us to deceive; 
Well I know that wizards weave 
Spells that Cathba prophesied, 
Spells that mine own soul have tried; 
This the day that ends their power. 
I will budge not tho' the lower 
Of the storms of hell shall break, 
Tho' the magic seemings make 
Charnai house of this our hall. 
So I answer. Answer all! 

CONALL: Wheel, oh, heroes! Make we straight 
Downward to the valley's gate. 
If a scattered force oppose 
Only, we can match such foes. 
If we on an army run 
We must pierce it, so that one 
At the least shall hold his way 
Onward tp Emania; 

Thence with Red Branch cohorts winging, 
Rescue or revenge back bringing, 
Come, close fighting — let none stray 
To the right or left away! 

The warriors gather in file and move out. As 
they pass Cuchulain tliey salute him with re- 
verted spears. 

Mighty warrior, matchless chief, 

We are gone, and gone in grief. 

Thou the battle call deniest; 

From the foe the first time fliest; 

Death can arm no bitterer dart 

Tho' the point shall pierce my heart. 

242 



Lightning of the battle cloud, 

Of thy prowess ever proud, 

Thro' a thousand fights and raids, 

Night forays and ambuscades, 

I have watched thy splendor burning. 

Blazing forward, unreturning! 

Now I leave thee dulled and dim 

By thy self Imagined, grim 

Horrors halted from the path 

The best way that glory hath. 

Farewell, chieftain! Farewell, friend! 

We that way of duty wend. 

SENCHA: Sorrow, sorrow — palsying rage 
More than ache and more than age 
Weighs upon my faltering limbs. 
My glazed sight in water swims; 
Thus, Cuchulain, thus, my son — 
Leaving you so lost — undone. 
We will fight. And if we die 
Rousing in your majesty. 
From you will this fever fit 
Pass, and all your doubts with it. 
Loosened like an avalanche. 
On the foes of the Red Branch 
You will follow, you will roll. 
Body severing from soul. 
Swift shall come thy blasting breath 
In requital of our death. 

ERC: Aye, Cuchulain, ease thy might. 
Let the graybeards for thee fight. 
Thou among the women here 
Best had crouch thee in thy fear. 
And the word of victory wait 
That thy fame shall desolate; 
Or in meekness yield thy hands 
To thy captors' iron bands. 
I, thy pupil, was advanced 
If thine eye upon me glanced 

243 



When the battle press was on; 
Thee I worshipped, like a son; 
Now I tear thee from my heart 
Coward, we to fight depart! 

AITHIRNE: Lift the music funeral 
For the son of Erin's fall. 
Move we with reverted spears 
For the death pang of ail years. 
Weep, oh, Ulster, thro' thy vales, 
Banba, every height that scales 
Into heaven's neighborhood, 
Veil thee in a palled hood; 
Alba, Scotia and the rest. 
Mourn the man of men confessed 
First and foremost, singly best! 
He has sunken from his place, 
Lost the headship of his race; 
All his fame that was, forgot; 
All his name a hideous blot; 
For the call was on to save 
And he cowered as a slave; 
Let the foemen fight or fly. 
Hearing not the battle cry. 
By his own great register, 
By his glorious deeds that were, 
Self-condemned, Cuchulain dies. 
On, heroes, and avert your eyes! 

The ivarriors pass out. Cuchulain stands in 
silence. 



244 



SCENE 7. 

The ravine hefore the entrance to the Deaf 
Valley. Vila, Igloia and Eithe. 

IGLOIA: What seest thou, sister? 

EITHE: All the glen 

Filled with trampling, cursing men. 
Blind, a-wandering in the mist. 
No thing seen and no way wist. 
Ha! they beat the air with swords. 
I courtesy to you, my great lords! 

IGLOIA: Seest no more? 

EITHE: I see the house 

Glooming 'neath its cavern brows. 
And in fire and torchlight there 
Ladies many, ladies fair, 
Moving, peering from the hall. 
Rising, settling, twittering all. 
Like a cloud of startled birds, 
Restless past the reach of words; 
By the fire Cuchulain sits, 
The grim master of his wits; 
And his guardian, watchful eyed 
Emer, kneels there by his side. 

IGLOIA: Moves he not all to arm? 

EITHE: No; contempt for our alarm 
Is in his eyes and in his mien! 

IGLOIA: We have beaten, baffled been 
Thrice before and now again 
By this conquerer of men. 
Is there no way to bring him forth? 

ULLA: Not while Emer has his oath. 

IGLOIA: Wife defended 'gainst our spell, 
Is he then invulnerable? 

245 



ULLA: Emer keeps him. Emer can 

Drive him forth a maddened man! 
IGLOIA: What great secret of our art 

From thine eyes doth peering start? 

Canst thou, coiling like a snake, 

Dart thy charms afar to make 

Flutter nearer and more near 

The great hero whom we fear? 
ULLA: No, not that! 
IGLOIA: What spell will use? 
ULLA: Strange the weapon I will choose. 

Must I do it; must v/e kill 

Cuchulain for forgotten ill? 

We are hopeless, we are lost — 

Things frustrated. Will the cost 

Of his death, of Emer's woe, 

Make us otherwise than so? 
IGLOIA: Thou weak child of wizard father 

Wizard schooled, but choosing rather 

Woman's heart and woman's wile; 

Most forlorn on Erin's isle 

Are we, monsters and abhorred; 

And the warrior, champion, lord. 

Thro' whose work we hated go 

Waits from us the fatal blow; 

And thou falterest. 
ULLA: Nay, I'll do It. 

Quick, the charms that go unto it! 
IGLOIA: What thy purpose? 

ULLA: Til assume 

Emer's form and Emer's bloom. 

On this wild and withered stalk 

Shall burst a rose whose breath shall mark 

The perfume of the garden born. 

IGLOIA: Crown of wizardry be worn 
By thee, glory of our race! 

EITHE: She shall have the highest place! 
Oh, the merry, laughing plan! 

246 



ULLA: Come, 'tis time that we began! 
I must first by Fire-Appearance 
Of this wreck of flesh make clearance, 
Ere in perfect semblance I 
Wear my wifehood royalty. 
Thou, Igloia, knowst the spell 
Of the fire seeming miracle. 

IGLOIA: I can do it. Eithe bring 
Branches, bushes, everything. 
Another Belfire make we here, 
Make our sister's beacon bier. 

They gather bushes and pile them on TJlla. 

Rob our former bonfire pile. 

Borrowing for a little while 

Fuel that unconsumed may 

Burn her wizard's weeds away. 

Enough! Our sister, hidden quite, 

Waits but for the magic light. 

Come, thou phosphorescent gleam 

That is the real fire's dream! 

Come from rotting logs that smoulder; 

Come from dark roofed caverns older; 

Come from will o' wisps that carry 

Witches' lamps and wanderers harry; 

Come from balls that light a-mast; 

Come from Aurora's curtains vast; 

Come from the sea waves, shimmering field, 

On this bonfire be revealed! 

A phosphorescent fire runs through and en- 
velops the pile of hushes and shows the chang- 
ing form of TJlla within. 

So, the crucible is ready. 

Blaze the coals about it steady! 

Shredded dross that it doth hold 

Shall turn to a shape of gold. 

'Tis done; the fire dies down — and now 

To our newborn sister bow. 

247 . - . 



The phosphorescence fades away, leaving the 
pile as before. Ulla tosses the bushes aside 
and steps forth in the semblance of Emer. 

Hail, oh, woman — wedded wife! 

EITHE: It is Emer to the life! 

ULLA: Show I fair and glow I sweet, 
Woman glorious and complete? 
Is this fall of richest hair, 
Is this brow of candor, where 
Crowns might circle, garlands rest, 
Eyes and mouth and neck and breast. 
Arms and limbs of flawless mould; 
Are they all as I foretold? 

IGLOIA: Thou art perfect counterfeit. 
Bear thy mind as true deceit; 
Thou the conqueror must compell; 
To surrender to thy spell. 
Let us teach thee — tutor thee 
For the final victory! 

ULLA: Tell me nothing; teach me naught! 
I am woman, and so fraught 
With all arts a woman needs. 
Charms by which she best succeeds. 
Wait here, sisters, watch and wait! 
Soon from out that tree veiled gate 
Comes the hermit of his room, 
Comes Cuchulain to his doom. 
I go! I go! When next we meet 
We shall weave his winding sheet. 



SCENE 8. 

The same interior as Scene 6. Cuchulain sits 
near the fireplace ivith Emer kneeling "by him. 
The women are grouped ahoiit Niam at the en- 
trance. 

NUARDA: The mist rolls up in the vale; 
Sunk has the sound of the strife, 
Neighing of horses in fright, 
Clash of armor and spear, 
Cries as the combatants close; 
Down to the entrance must move 
All the mellay of men. 
Niam, hearest thou aught? 

NIAM: Only the creaking of firs 

Sweeping earth with their plumes. 

NUARDA: We are the echoes of men. 
Waiting, hanging aloof; 
Answering only when they 
Make the original noise. 
Niam, dost thou not burn 
To know the way of the fight. 
Know if our heroes have won? 

NIAM: Aye, and I will, for at hand 

Here are my helmet and sword. 
I will be hero again, 
Skirmish on outskirts of war. 
See, Lady Emer, I go 
To bring thee news of the fray. 

EMER: Go, good Niam, and find 
The lost warriors misled. 
Bring them back to us here. 
Call, if thou needst our aid. 

Niam salutes and goes out. Emer comes for- 
ward to the women. 

249 



Girls, why do ye withdraw 
So to such distance from us, 
Comforting Cuchulain not? 
Do ye then also believe 
The wizard voices were real? 
Dare ye Cuchulain to doubt? 

NUARDA: Eager, Emer, were I 
To hold thy hero as high 
Eminent over all men; 
But too certain the sounds 
Come of the conflict to us. 
Our brothers, our lovers are there. 
Pray that they may not be dead. 

A voice, apparently Niam's, suddenly comes 
from without. 

THE VOICE: Emer, Emer, come forth, 
And thy ladies all of them come; 
Instant help needed here. 
Oh, the horrible sight! 

EMER: What, are they wounded perchance? 
Nearest, Cuchulain, the word? 
I must bear succor to them. 
Quick, oh, girls, let us go! 

Emer and all the loomen rush out. Cuchulain 
is left alone. 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! the Druid was right. 
Nothing stays in one place; 
No truth eternal can be. 
See, the dear ones desert! 
Clouds are inconstant; the moon 
Alters nightly her face; 
River and sea surges eat 
The rock ribbed form of the earth; 
Leaps the light on these logs; 
The flames of the fire are upflung, 
Then fall and flicker away; 
Such is man's life, such the place 

250 



Where mansion and home he has made; 
Yet must there something be sure. 
The soul must a citadel stand, 
Or it could not be so besieged, 
By the ever altering breath, 
By the whirl of the world without; 
Somewhere a steadfast thing 
Must sit in the centre of all, 
To measure what motions enring, 
Is it thou? Oh, my soul, art thou part 
Of the true, of the lasting — the real, 
A point of the compassing whole, 
A thought of the Eternal Unmoved? 
Does He, as thy Captain, as one 
Of innumerable sentinels, set, 
Station thee here to have charge 
Of the hordes of the wavering lights 
And winds of the wastes of the world? 
Or does He try thee and test 
By illusions, phantasies, dreams, 
Visions of honor and fame, 
Riches and love and delight, 
Apparitional all. 

As the wizards' voices and shows. 
Does he test thy strength to endure 
Till he take thee back to himself? 
I know not; but this I know. 
That a great glow burns in my frame; 
Whatever may wander or change. 
Whoever may dream and desert, 
I by the guidance I have. 
The business set me must do; 
Ulster, Conor must keep. 
The heroes save from themselves, 
Defeat the wizard's designs, 
Meve's great armament shake. 
This my appointed task, 
This do I burn to begin 
When this day of my trial shall end. 
Enter Ulla in the form of Enter. 
251 



ULLA: Arm thee, Cuchulain! Arm! 

CUCHULAIN: What sayest? 

ULLA: Only thy might 

Can save us — save all to-day! 
Go in thy terror — go forth! 

CUCHULAIN: Thou, thou urgest me forth? 

ULLA: Back I give thee thy vow; 
Here is no vision unreal, 
Lights of the wizard to lure. 
But war and anguish and death 
And women's suffering worse. 

CUCHULAIN: I not believe it. 

ULLA: Wilt thou 

Not believe Emer, thy wife? 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art, haply, deceived! 

ULLA: Listen, Cuchulain, while I 
The pitiful horrors recite 
That have their lair by yon stream. 
I and my ladies went forth 
In the writhing folds of the mist. 
Which as it shifted a space 
Niam disclosed by the stream; 
Stretched at her feet in his flood. 
His gray locks dabbled with blood, 
Sencha, the counseler lay. 

CUCHULAIN: Sencha, the old man? Dead! 

ULLA: Dead, and a little beyond. 

With a ring of his foeman around, 
Conall Cearnach sat, 
Wounded, wounded to death; 
His harness hacked from his back 
And his blood thro' a hundred gates 
Gushing out on the ground. 

CUCHULAIN: Mighty the masses of men 
If Conall Cearnach fell! 

252 



ULLA: The others were not a-near; 
But echoes of distant fight 
Eddied up thro' the glen. 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! the eagles sweep thro' 
They pierce the press and the cloud! 

ULLA: Yet, oh, Cuchulain, is time, 

Thou canst come an unhoped for recruit, 

And roll back the minions of Meve 

In hurrying and headlong flight. 

Quick, I will help. Thy war shoes 

Kneeling I fasten them on; 

Buckle thy greaves — O my God, 

Thou shall wade to thy knees In their blood. 

Now thy corselet put on. 

CUCHULAIN: But to-day is the wizards' day! 

ULLA: What, dost thou halt, dost thou doubt? 

CUCHULAIN: Where are the women who went 
Out with thee into the vale? 

ULLA: Oh, Cuchulain, thy word 

Brings back the worst woe of all. 

As with the dying and dead 

Stood we there by the stream, 

A foray of fighting men 

Swept from the trees near at hand. 

Grainne they seized, and they seized 

Camma, Nuarda and all 

The blossoming virgins whose grace 

Grew protected to make 

Paradise of our court; 

Their white arms waved on the wind. 

Their torn robes clung to the trees, 

They cried, Cuchulain, on thee. 

CUCHULAIN: The women! Give me my coat! 
But thou — how didst thou escape? 

ULLA: I slipped thro' my captor's hands. 

Like a bird that bursts from the grasp, 
I darted into the copse, 

253 



Trackless turnings I traced 

So they might not follow me here. 

CUCHULAIN: This, too, may be but a fit 

Of the phrenzy the wizards have bred! 

ULLA: See, Cuchulain. I thought 
Not to tell of my hurt; 
To hide from thy dear eyes my wound; 
See on my shoulders, where torn 
The robe slips down on my arm, 
The crimson scratch of the sword 
Made by the man I outstripped. 

CUCHULAIN: What, on thy white marble skin 
Written this sign of the war? 
Kill they then women, those hounds? 
Proof, undoubtable proof — 
Peace. 'Tis enough. I must go. 

ULLA: Here is thy helmet, my King. 
Bind I around thee thy belt 
Bearing the mass of thy sword. 
Oh, when thou victor return. 
How will I kiss it and thee? 

CUCHULAIN: Yet— oh, yet why art thou 

Eager to usher me out. 

Who but a brief time ago 

Tethered me unto thy side? 

Now thou knowest, as then. 

That the Evil Ones are at work. 

The prophesy still in thy ears 

Rings. What Cathba foretold. 

That if this day I went forth 

Ulster and I in one doom 

Fall — meet a final eclipse. 
ULLA: Cathbal What could he foreknow 

Of the war that would follow us here? 

These are not phantoms, oh, chief. 

Real were the horses and men 

Ere saw first in this vale; 

Real was the blood Conall brought 

264 



Dripping back on his blade; 
Real are those heroes who lie 
Pavilioned under the trees 
In the state of a glorious bed; 
Real was the rape of my train; 
Real is this scar on my flesh. 
Oh, oh, wilt not believe — 
Believe and battleward rush! 
CUCHULAIN: 

Puts aside his helmet and seats himself again. 
Emer, did I not know 
Thee to the innermost core, 
Count every drop of thy blood, 
Perfect, passionate, pure, 
Now would I deem on my soul 
Thou hadst withdrawn and become 
An emissary of Meve — 
A traitor who from within 
Opens the citadel's gates. 
But no — thou too art deceived. 

UlLA: Alas! Oh, my husband, that thou 

By the breath of the birth of a thought, 

Ever my truth should distrust. 

I am thine, body and soul. 

And would thine honor uphold; 

Think when blown is abroad 

This day's rumor, report. 

The heroes' defense and defeat, 

Unhelped by the sword of their chief, 

The theft of the glorious girls, 

Emania's circlet of gems, 

To be booty for ruffians and slaves 

By the household fires of our foes; 

Think how all Erin will scorn; 

Think what a hissing will be! 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! Now surely I see 
Thou dost design me for death. 
Who, oh, Emer dost choose 
Me to succeed in thy bed? 
265 



Is it the boy warrior Ere, 
Blazing unseasoned in wrath, 
Spitting and crackling away? 
Is it the golden locked bard, 
Blue-eyed Aithirne; above 
All men in beauty and grace 
Bearing — the woman amid — 
But with the tongue of a wasp, 
Venomous, worse than a sword? 
Which of these hopest thou to have 
Locked in thy closest embrace 
When I am vanished from earth? 

ULLA: Oh, the injurious word 

Stabbing straight to the heart 

That Is home of thy image alone! 

Here I give up, resign 

Hope of all human help. 

Let the foeman come and o'ercome. 

Me at least they shall not 

Take for their triumph away. 

Take for the tyrannous arms 

Of some lustful chief of Connacht; 

Here I will die at thy feet. 

Where I fling me repentant adown. 

Oh, Cuchulain, forgive 

My foolish will that in aught 

Opposed thy wiser designs. 

With my tears, with the flood of my hair 

Bathe I and cover thy feet. 

I cling to thy knees nor more high 

Claim to place me in pride — 

My hero — my god — forgive! 

CUCHULAIN: What, Emer— shaken with sobs. 
Wasting in torrents of tears! 
Come, girl, nothing I meant 
Of the hot words that leaped from my tongue. 
I know thee true as the sword 
That is thy rival alone. 
Still dost thou, weeping, dissolve? 

256 



Oh, how rich is thine hair 

In the brown breaking fall of its mass — 

Dusk and light twisted in it! 

And the gleam of thy shoulders' white mould 

Maddens my blood for a kiss. 

Yes, thou art true — thou art true — 

And it follows — it crowds on my mind, 

What I took for phantoms were facts: 

The voices, the conflict, the deaths, 

Thy capture and flight in the vale. 

I, I, it is who, deceived, 

Have hugged me here by my hearth, 

While the blood of my eagles of war 

Were vainly wasted for me; 

While on my wife and the maids 

Dishonor hovered and fell. 

Well, oh, well now I see 

The plot of the wizards unveil; 

My life they assai.ed not, but threw 

Fancies on me till I should 

Hesitate, haggle and halt, 

While my name went down to its death, 

To the damning depths of its shame. 

Thrice infernal design! 

But there is time — there is time. 

Release me, Emer. I go! 
ULLA: Go not! Go not, my love! 

Let us rather here die 

When the foeman find us at last. 

In each others' harboring arms! 
CUCHULAIN: (Who frees himself and assumes his 
helmet and weapons). 

If, as must be, that without 

Foeman my coming await. 

Let them run to their wives. 

Let them prattle of death. 

Farewell, Emer. Farewell. 

He goes out. 
ULLA: And I — I have won — I have won! 

257 



SCENE 9. 

A folding of the Deaf Valley just within the 
entrance. Enter Cuchulain in his chariot 
driven hy Laeg. 

LAEG: Here are no enemies yet! 

CUCHULAIN: Drive on. Soon will they be met! 

LAEG: The dead that strewed all the ground, 
Nor man nor horse have we found! 

CUCHULAIN: Ha! Thinkst thou the wizards would 
leave 
Such proofs when they wish to deceive? 

LAEG: May I speak, Cuchulain, my mind? 
You were better when deaf and blind; 
When you doubted all you were right; 
You were bravest refusing to fight. 

CUCHULAIN: Drive on! Knowst not that that thing 
Was the wizards' ov^^n ordering, 
For they made me doubt, as thou saith, 
And delivered my name unto death. 

LAEG: But the omens? The brooch thou letst fall, 
Piercing foot thro' thy war shoes and all. 

CUCHULAIN: An omen! A chance happened thing! 

LAEG: But the bird with the ominous wing 
Who thrice flung into thy face? 

CUCHULAIN: Or of any went thro' this place! 

LAEG: But Liath, the great gray war horse. 
Refused to run on his course. 
And no bridle or harness would take! 

CUCHULAIN: He came to my call when I spake! 

LAEG: Ah, yes. But two tears of blood 

Dropped down on his feet where he stood! 

258 



CUCHULAIN: Drive en. The fee while we prate 
Laughs long at the chief who lags late! 

The real Emer rushes in and flings herself 
upon Cuchulain in the chariot. 

EMER: At last! Cuchulain, have I found 
Thee in this enchanted ground? 
Oh, again to see thy face 
Lighting up this lonely place; 
I have wandered terrified 
Since fool like I left thy side. 

CUCHULAIN: Left my side! Why, I left thee 
In the house, hidden — safe and free. 

EMER: How! But what dost here, my King, 
Where this vale has entering, 
Armed and ready to go forth? 
H^st forgot thy pledged oath? 

CUCHULAIN: Thy wits wander! I am come 
By thee armed and sent from home. 
To retrieve my injured name. 
Back, my girl, from v/hence you came. 

EMER: I not understand thee. But 
The day's gates are not yet shut 
When the wizards, thee pursuing. 
Power have for thy undoing. 
Turn thee, turn — Cuchulain, back; 
Ruin, deal., are on this track! 

CUCHULAIN: Ever a wom.an's mind is thus 
Still altering — still imperious; 
Even inept to grasp the whole 
Or drive straight onward to a goal; 
Changing with all the winds that blow; 
Firm, feeble, fluttering to and fro; 
The men that take them for a guide 
Like the sea drifted wreckage ride^ — 
Emer, enough — no time have I 
To read thy riddle augury. 

259 



EMER: I seize thy horse's head. Retreat! 
Or drag me down beneath his feet. 
I thy oath claim. Wilt to death 
Ride with promise breaking breath? 

CUCHULAIN: 

Springing from his chariot. 

What meanest, woman? Scarce the air 

Smoothes its ruffled waves that bear 

Echoes of thy thrilling speech. 

Thou gavest back my word. And each 

Theme, term, word, action, eloquent 

Used, till I rose and armed and went 

Out on my flaming way of wrath. 

Now risest thou upon my path 

With looks of falsehood, words foresworn. 

Wouldst give me to my foeman's scorn? 

EMER: I was false, ah, false, indeed, 
That I left thee in thy need, 
Rushing out a help to bear 
To the wounded I thought there: 
Scarce a dozen steps I made 
Down into that grassy glade, 
But a mist rose, separating 
Me from those upon me waiting; 
A moment, their voices heard I clear, 
Calling round me here and there. 
Then they died. I was alone, 
'Mid the writhing mist wind blown. 
Fantastic forms, fantastic shapes — 
Islands, mountains, jutting capes. 
Lakelets rippled over and 
Moonlight mirage of a strand 
Strewn with ships with sloped decks. 
Great, majestic, blackened wrecks — 
Rose about me. But, far worse, 
Came such things as under curse 
Live — great snakelike dragons, reared; 
Flying these, still worse I feared, 

260 



For a maned lion there 

With great eyes did on me glare; 

Then a bear with sidelong look 

Glided by me down a brook; 

Flying, stumbling, flung on face, 

Crawling, falling thro' great space, 

As one labors in a dream 

Went I hours — It might seem; 

Till the sun a little made 

Entry on this entrance glade, 

And I saw thee standing, great 

In thy harness facing Fate; 

Reached thee, clung to thee and will 

Leave thee not again until 

Thou thy purpose shall resign — 

Cathba oath I claim and mine! 
CUCHULAIN: Thou didst dream, and dreams still 
sway 

Thy mind, that overstrained, gives way. 

Think, girl, recall thy recent acts, 

The true throng of the real facts; 

The dead warriors and thy train 

Reft and to dishonor ta'en; 

The crimson scar upon thy arm — 

Think how thou broughtst me the alarm 

And armed and urged me on to fight. 

My nam.e to save from evil plight. 

How thou didst weep within my arms, 

Queen of all distressed charms. 

Wake, girl — remember — let me go; 

The flying moments help the foe. 
EMER: Has some woman with thee been 

Since mine eyes thy face has seen? 

CUCHULAIN: Thou, thyself— thou knowst it well, 

Tho' it suits thy changeable 

Mind, some other tale to feign, 

Did solely by my side remain. 
EMER: Thou, then it is art false — to me 

As to our realm's security. 

261 



Thou hast kissed another face, 
Hast felt another's arms embrace. 
Woe, Cuchulain — to become 
Disloyal in the face of doom. 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art surely Folly's fool 
So to chide and so to school. 

EMER: Ha! Cuchulain, now I see 

Some fiend has ta'en the form of m.e: 
One of those things to thee revealed 
In the beryl's blazing field. 
Fearful form with hardly hint 
Of a woman's presence in 't; 
That it is has thee beguiled, 
Filling my absence with a filed 
And forged phantom of my form, 
While I went thro' the wiidered storm. 

CUCHULAIN: Then, thou, thyself the phantom art. 
Thou vulture preying on my heart, 
Rising in feigned shape on my path 
To save thy minions from my wrath. 
Base enchantress! Bloody witch! 
I see now the presence rich 
Of the wife who is my pride, 
Like a garment from thy side 
Slipping, fading. Thou dost stand 
Demon of a demon land; 
Thine eyes dart a snakelike gleam; 
Snakelike thy coiled tresses seem; 
What thy body who can tell? 
Vacant — blasted — horrible; 
Out my sword and end this act; 
The fiend is taken in the fact! 

He draws his sword and maizes to kill Emer. 

EMER: Oh, Cuchulain, not my life; 
I am Emer; am thy wife! 

CUCHULAIN: Thou art fiend of darkest hell, 
Showing fierce and foul and feli 

282 



Through the white frame of my love! 
Yet my hands refuse to move. 
Thee I cannot, dare not kill 
Though thou art incarnate ill — 
Sacred by the garb thou wearest 
Of the woman form that's fairest — 
Go! In distance work and plot, 
But in sword length venture not! 

EMER: Oh, my master! Oh, my lord! 
I not fear thy frighting sword. 
Look, look deep into my eyes! 
Canst thou not there recognize 
All the love that, always ready, 
Blazed to light thee! beacon steady. 
They are kingdoms where alone 
Thou unrivalled keptst thy throne. 
Never thought or image rude 
Of another did intrude. 
Throw me not off, but believe 
Thy wife in thy arms does grieve. 

CUCHULAIN: Wells thine eyes are where must 
drown 
Who from the brink there gazes down. 
' Luring looks and siren signs 
Hide thy desperate designs. 
I slay thee not, thou thing of evil, 
But know thee — woman varnished devil! 

EMER: How, how may I thee awake. 
And this nev/ enchantment break. 
Back thy looks, Cuchulain, cast; 
Let me call again the past. 
I remember how one came, 
Lord of all the fields of fame, 
To my father's court and there 
I, half hidden by the stair, 
Saw and felt and knew my king; 
And leaning forth, a bauble thing. 
Brooch or amulet, I hung 
On the great arm so near me flung! 

263 



I remember that same night, 

Lucent with the moon's delight, 

How thro' the guarded casement I 

Put forth my naked arm to be 

Smothered in kisses utterly! 

I remember a bridal bed 

Where, when night had almost fled, 

One arose and took a torch, 

Blazing in the outer porch. 

And held it long above his prize 

Full revealed to his eyes — 

How, Cuchulain, could I have 

Secrets such as these are, save 

I thy very Emer were? 

Dear, relax thy fixed stare. 

CUCHULAIN: Oh, this weltering world of lies 
Thou art she! Such memories 
Prove it out of use of faith, 
Save thou art a wizard wraith 
So unfathomably deep. 
That all mysteries in thee sleep. 
Yet who was that Emer then 
Of the house within the glen; 
With her drifted hair — and sobs — 
With her warm heart human throbs? 
She urged me my name to keep. 
You urge me in sloth to sleep. 
Hers the best course! Hers I choose! 
Thine I thrust back and refuse, 
rif not hurt thee — but be gone — 
Thou hast played and lost and done. 

A great noise of combat is heard. The wiz- 
ards light their lyonfire without the valley and 
the light of it rolls up through the trees. The 
madness comes anew upon Cuchulain. 

Hark! the battle clamor's near! 
Shrilling trumpets, clashing gear; 
Sounds of charge and cries of strife; 
Wounded wailing out their life; 
264 



Ha! my eyes are clear again, 

And I see a circling plain, 

Richest of the green robed lands. 

And in the midst Emania stands! 

Ho, the plain is full of fight! 

Ho, the Red Branch crests in flight 

Give before the hordes of Meve. 

Conor dies and none to save; 

Conall for a space makes good 

The breach in the Red Brotherhood, 

Then goes down deep buried; 

Ere half checks the battle's course. 

Whirled away by foot and horse; 

Cathba, with white streaming hair. 

Flies o'er the field, now here, now there, 

Calling, praying, prophesying, 

Rousing up the dead and dying; 

Ha! Feircetne singing goes. 

Cutting thro' the main of foes; 

All the chiefs are there save one — 

Blush, Cuchulain, blush alone. 

Thou art worse than overthrown. 

Now the walls they overwhelm. 

Taken is our radiant realm; 

And the torches quick are plied. 

Blaze the piles on every side. 

The great Variegated House 

Ruddier yet in splendor grows. 

Hark! the armor on it hanging 

Down upon the pave is clanging! 

Now the House of the Red Branch 

Crashes like an avalanche. 

And the flames from it upflung 

Climb and camp the stars among. 

Other houses, palaces 

As these, darken, break ablaze. 

See my Crystal House is lit! 

Writhing lines creep over it, 

Every timber, every beam. 

Outlined in the fire doth seem, 

265 



Like the fretwork winter sees 

On the ice entangled trees. 

Now it blazes to the core, 

Furnace fed with golden ore, 

For there heaped are my war spoils, 

All the earnings of my toils; 

There my banquet board of mirth, 

The sacred precincts of my hearth. 

All are gone — are gone — are gone! 

Meve! Revenge! Death! Ruin! Scorn! 

He staggers to Ms chariot. Emer flings her- 
self upon him. 

EMER: Kill, Cuchuiain, kill me here. 

But front not this enchanted fear! 

The wizards win upon us both, 

But cheat them. King! Respect thine oath. 

Cuchuiain flings her from him so that she 
falls insensible on the ground. He mounts his 
chariot. 

CUCHULAIN: Lie there thou dark and dangerous 
thing 
That kept me from the warrior's ring. 
On, Laeg — drive! One strife Is done. 
But Ulster may again be won. 

Exeunt. 



SCENE 10. 

Night on a vast plain. Enter Conall Cearnach, 
Cathha and Feircetne with a party of Red 
Branch Knights. Their armor and plumes 
gleam and shake in the light of the torches they 
carry. 

CONALL: We wander in the night amissi 

CATHBA: Moy Muirtheimne's plain is this! 

CONALL: Straight the track, then. Straight he 
went 
Unto Meve's great armament. 

CATHBA: Ha! I stumble! Look, a corse! 
Another! Fallen by his horse. 

FEIRCETNE: Thick and thicker grow they here, 
Lifeless as the withered, sere 
Leaves that choke an autumn glen! 
Distorted and dismembered men, 
Horses cold! In harvest reaped 
Here war's sheaves are closely heaped. 

CONALL: Group the torches! Let me know 
Face and armor. 'Tis the foe! 
Here's the eagle's track at last! 
Down this way Cuchulain passed. 
Kite and crow and raven he 
Struck in one great victory. 

CATHBA: Scatter! Search the field about. 
Let your torches, blushing red, 
Flare in the faces of the dead. 

They move about with their torches, tdr 
cetne calls from the centre of the field. 

FEIRCETNE: Cathba, come! 
267 



CONALL: What hast thou found? 

FEIRCETNE: In the field's centre is a mound! 

CONALL: What else? 

FEIRCETNE: More dead and ever more, 

Like rocks that some steep summit shore 
Until they jut and topple o'er. 

CONALL: Cuchulain's sign! Cuchulaln's mark! 

FEIRCETNE: Ah, me! 

CONALL: What seest thou? 

FEIRCETNE: Cathba, hark! 

Conall, prepare thy soul! Draw near! 

On the mound's crest, a charioteer 

Lies at a warrior's feet, whose stay 

Is a dead war horse, great and gray: 

With head drooped forward, sword on knee. 

On his last battle throne sits he. 

CONALL: Thou darest not say it! 

FEIRCETNE: Ah, what mouth 

Of Erin dare — or North or South? 

CONALL: Hither the torches! Boy, give place! 
Ha! rather were I face to face 
With my own Fate and final woe 
Than confront Cuchulain so. 
Lift thy head, friend. Lo! Thy eyes, 
Orbs that will read no auguries, 
Fire my heart. Now, by the gods. 
Red Branch Knights outflare your swords, 
Swear, swear, to follow me, and slake 
Deep in blood our heart's long ache! 
Swear to chase that flying wrack 
From this dead face driven back! 
Till, where their flaming houses rise, 
We offer them a sacrifice. 
Follow, Conall Cearnach! Come! 
Vengeance, slaughter, drive we home! 

268 



CATHBA: Halt, oh, Conall! First is due 
Honor to the great and true. 
Warriors of the Red Branch House, 
Death is now your champion's spouse. 
Take him up with gentle touch, 
The great one wearied overmuch; 
Let him on your linked shields 
Take repose from all his fields: 
With your crimson cloaks o'ercover 
His torn body crimsoned over. 
By his side, around, ahead. 
Lights for the pathway of the dead! 
So! March on. And, poet, raise 
Song of triumph, song of praise. 

FEIRCETNE: Slaughtered host and slaughtered 
King 
Lie in one vast battle ring. 
From his final field of fame 
Bear the matchless form of flame! 
Largest of our lordly line 
Bear him to Emania's shrine. 
Last of the immortal clan, 
The Tuartha de Danaan, 
Bear him past the mountain gates 
Where his vanished godsire waits! 
Ulster weep, thy champion slain, 
Guard of thy sky-domed domain. 
Thou no citadel or wall 
Built — thou needed none at all — 
When, a glancing armament. 
He about thy borders went: 
Floods of foes that round him welled. 
Baffled, backward, down, he quelled! 
Erin weep, thy hero gone, 
Unto Alba, Britain known, 
Known to Pict and known to Dane, 
Famous o'er the ocean plain — 
Weep, but triumph! For he shall 
Blaze above Death's blackest pall. 



Islands of remotest reach, 
Utmost lands of unknown speech, 
Races hid in Time's far womb, 
Unto these he shall untomb, 
Shall revealed in splendor stand 
The glory of his native land. 
Tongue of poet, hero heart. 
Till from the dry earth those depart. 
Shall echo ever, ever name 
Cuchulain's deeds, Cuchulain's fame. 



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